Dance With The Devil
by Jane McBrennen
Summary: AU. Damon sees a girl and is intrigued. He decides to make her fall for him, but ends up falling for her instead. Problem is... she's complicated. Can Damon help her? Damon/OC. Rating may change for later chapters.
1. Seeing Him

_**Hear Me**_**, a Damon/OC fan fiction. **

_**Chapter One: "Seeing Him."**_

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**Pairings****:**

_Damon Salvatore/Rosalind "Rose" Cresswell_

_Stefan Salvatore/Elena Gilbert_

_Jeremy Gilbert/?_

_Matt/Caroline_

_Bonnie/?_

_Aunt Judith/?_

_OCs:_

_Rose Cresswell_

_Mike Cresswell (Rose's dad)_

_Lily Cresswell (Rose's mom)_

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**A/N: This fic is a combination of stuff from both the book and tv series. Like, Elena has a brother, Jeremy, like in the tv series, and she's an uber bitch like in the book. If you have any questions, feel free to comment or PM me. I'll answer them the best I can. Enjoy, and thank you for reading. :)**

_**~ Jane**_

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The chill autumn winds of October swept through the trees, blowing the red and gold leaves into the street of the small, ordinary suburb of Fell's Church, Virginia.

On that same street Rosalind Cresswell walked leisurely, taking in the world around her. She felt every leaf that crunched under her feet, heard every whispered word of the wind, she absorbed everything around her. The presence of every being seemed to speak to her, animal and human alike, including the boy with the dark, black-brown hair sitting beneath the old oak tree in the front yard of the Salvatore place, a mansion-like house that was over a hundred years old, the property extending farther than most of the newer suburban houses surrounding it.

Rose had seen the boy around Fell's Church before, often with Caroline Forbes, and occasionally with Elena Gilbert or Stefan Salvatore. There were rumors that he was Stefan's brother, though Rose never put much stock in any of the tittle-tattle of Fell's Church. It was too often inaccurate, and to bee frankly honest Rose just didn't give a flying shit. She had her own problems to deal with without adding the whole of Fell's Church's to her shoulders as well, least of all the popular kids' problems.

Rose had never been too fond of the Populars. They were vain, selfish, shallow, empty-headed, back-stabbing bitches, Elena Gilbert and Caroline Forbes being the best examples Rose could think of. Yet this boy seemed different. There was something deeper there. He wasn't shallow, at least not in the same way or to the same degree that the rest of the Populars were. He didn't even really seem to be a part of that group anyway. He seemed to be… in _pain_, though how Rose knew that she couldn't even begin to guess.

She had noticed a few other things about him the few times she'd seen him. He seemed to be trying to convince everyone that he was a bad boy, spoiled and rotten, selfish, cruel, heartless, crude, but charming and arrogant. But he wasn't. Rose knew it somewhere deep inside herself when she looked at him, that there was something pure and good beneath the broken, shattered pieces of himself.

Rose shuddered, though not from the chill wind. She was frightening herself again. If she kept doing things like this to herself she'd go crazy. Like last week with Jeremy Gilbert. She had bumped into him on the way to Euro History. All their books had fallen to the ground. He had told her to watch where she was going while he irritably started picking up his books, trying to sort out his from hers.

"It'll get better," she had blurted out. He had looked at her so strangely then, as though he were trying to look straight into her soul.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what I'm doing anymore," Rose mumbled, hurriedly trying to pick up her books.

"What'll get better?" he had asked, ignoring her previous statement. His eyes seemed to burn into her, and words poured from her mouth before she could stop them.

"You're hurting… over a girl."

"You mean Vickie? I… I miss her but I know it's… for the best," Jeremy said, almost uncertain of the words coming out of his mouth. They sounded practiced and false, and even he knew it.

"That's just what your head is telling you. Your _soul_ hurts. And that's okay. It's okay to hurt. It's okay to remember her and cry a little. Don't fight it, it just makes things worse."

Jeremy had looked stricken, as though the pain was finally coming through. Rose's very soul ached for him.

"Will it ever go away?" he asked quietly.

"No," Rose answered honestly, Jeremy's eyes tightening in pain. "It won't go away. But it'll get better, and one day you'll be able to think about her and you'll realize that you're not angry or sad, but glad for the time you had with her. Don't try to toss your memories of her out because they hurt too much. Cherish them. They're all you have left of her now."

Jeremy looked up at her, an emotion between agony and relief on his face. And then there was gratitude… and then angered curiosity and resentment.

"How the hell do you know all this stuff?"

"I…" Rose faltered. She didn't know how she knew. She'd never even spoken to Jeremy before that day. The same went for Vickie.

"I'm sorry," Rose whispered, quickly grabbing her last book and running out of the hall and into her next class as fast as she could.

She had thought about Jeremy the rest of the day. Her thoughts disturbed her, but she couldn't help feeling as though she'd done him some good, even if she had no idea how she'd known to do it. She had tormented herself the rest of that day, racking her brains to figure out how she knew what she knew.

Rose refused to do the same to herself again over this mysterious dark-haired boy. She refused to believe she really knew anything about him. It's all in my wild imagination, she told herself. Just my imagination.

With that, she continued walking down the street, deliberately not looking back at the boy under the oak tree, whose eyes seemed so filled with sadness. Because she didn't look back, she didn't see the crow following her every movement with its beady black eyes.

But she felt those eyes. She felt them to her very soul. But she wasn't afraid or unnerved by them, by knowing that she was being watched. It was almost comforting, reassuring, as though an anonymous altruistic entity was watching over her, ensuring her safety.

***

Damon Salvatore watched the thin, frail figure of a curly red-haired girl retreat, his crow following her long after she had turned a corner and was out of his line of vision. She had been watching him, but not like girls usually did, lustful and wanting. No, she looked sad and pitying. It made his blood burn. Who was she to pity him? She didn't even know him.

He vaguely remembered seeing her before. He hadn't taken any notice of her. Other than her fiery hair color there wasn't anything special about her that he could see. She was pale and plain - common-looking really.

And yet, when she was watching him, he felt that there was something _very_ uncommon about her – like she could see him, his pain. It unnerved him.

He had been thinking of Katherine when he noticed the girl looking at him. He couldn't help but compare the two. One so beautiful and the other so plain. Damon smirked cruelly. Katherine would have laughed at her, mocked her when she thought that the red-head couldn't hear her. That was always Katherine's way. She had been cruel but, oh, so beautiful, so perfect and pure, even as she was still, preserved forever in his memory. And Stefen's, Damon though bitterly.

Stefen had everything. Katherine and now Elena. The self-control to stop killing. Damon had tried so many times to stop, but he was weak and failed every time. He would never admit even trying to his brother – no, it was ill-suited to his plans. Damon often wondered if his lack of self-control was because he was always so alone, which was why he was now so determined to raise Katherine. First they would have their revenge on Fell's Church, and _then_ they would learn self-control… together.

But that would be a while yet, Damon thought. No reason I can't have a little fun in the mean time.


	2. Meeting Her

_**Hear Me **_

_**Chapter Two: "Meeting Her."**_

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**A/N: I really hope you like it. I'm trying my best to convey emotion. Enjoy my loves! And thanks to my beautiful reviewers! I love you! :) **

_**~ Jane**_

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Robert E. Lee High. It was exactly the cesspool of hormones that Damon thought it would be. He lowered his shades, allowing the numerous girls staring at him a peek at his eyes, while allowing him to search for his prey. He didn't see the familiar mass of brassy red curls anywhere. Damon sighed dramatically, pushing his sun glasses back up. He would just have to do this the hard way. Ah, well. It was usually more fun that way.

Damon strutted into the administration office, giving the large herd of females ogling him a rather nice view of his ass. The woman at the desk was busy typing hastily at the computer sitting before her.

"I'll be with you in just a moment," she said without even looking at him.

Damon frowned, a line making an unnatural crease in his brow, a pout on his lips. Well, that just wasn't gonna happen. Damon Salvatore was not one to be ignored.

Damon leaned forward, holding his weight with his hand on the desk, and lowered his shades again, catching the administrator's attention. She caught his eye long enough for it to work.

"I think you'll help me _now_," Damon said quietly.

"Of- Of course," the woman stammered.

Damon smirked, pushing his glasses up again. Piece of cake.

***

Rose walked down the halls, her attention solely on the book she was reading. She had no worries about running into someone. Her fellow students had learned long ago to stay out of her way unless they wanted a fat bruise on their backside. Rose wasn't naturally clumsy, but when she got a good book in her hand from the Library, watch out, she couldn't care less where she was going. She usually managed to make her way to and from her locker without ending up in Maine, but it was still a rather dangerous business.

Her poison of choice today was _Rebecca_ by Daphne du Maurier, a thrilling classic suspense with more than a touch of the romantic. She must have read it a hundred times already, but she just couldn't get enough of Max de Winter and his new love. Their story bordered on the tragic, forever exiled from their beautiful home because of that bitch, Rebecca.

Rose smirked a little at how Rebecca always reminded her of Elena Gilbert, self-proclaimed Queen Bee of Robert E. Lee. Selfish, cruel, willing to do anything to get their way with no care as to how it affected others. Nothing mattered to either Elena or Rebecca, as long as the world continued to revolve around them, and when it didn't there was Hell to pay.

Fortunately for Rose, she under the radar enough to avoid most of Elena's bitching, but she did occasionally have to bear witness to it, which was nearly as bad.

Rose continued walking down the halls, mumbling the words on the page before her, completely absorbed in the world of Max and his new bride.

"'_If you think I'm one of those people who try to be funny at breakfast you're wrong,' he said. 'I'm invariably ill-tempered in the early morning. I repeat to you, the choice is open to you. Either you go to America with Mrs. Van Hopper or you come home to Manderlay with me._'

"'_Do you mean you want a secretary or something?_'

"'_No, I'm asking you to marry me, you little fool_.'

"_The waiter_- Oof!"

Rose was abruptly interrupted by walking into a wall. Rose was repelled back by the force with which she hit the wall and found that she was falling with no way to stop it. Very suddenly, more quickly than should have been possible, the reached out and grasped her forearms- Wait, walls don't have arms.

Rose looked up to see the dark-haired young man that she had seen under the old oak at the Salvatore place looking down at her with an amused smirk on his face. That intense feeling of his sadness overwhelmed her, far more than it had the day before when she saw him under the oak tree. She began to shake, fighting the tears that threatened in the corner of her eyes.

"_Let her go_," she whispered.

The smirk left the young man's face to be replaced with confusion.

Rose forced herself to break their held gaze and she looked down at her feet.

"I'm sorry," she said, failing to keep her voice from trembling. "I- I'm so clumsy."

Very suddenly, she sidestepped him, nearly running down the hall. She didn't stop until she had turned the corner, and when she did finally stop she was bent over panting for over two minutes before her heart stopped beating a tattoo in her chest. She ignored the stares of people around her, the fact that no one bothered to ask if she was alright barely registering in the back of her mind.

The pain – _his_ pain – still ached in her chest, that overwhelming sadness, that loneliness so piercing that she wondered how he could bear it. It wasn't as bad as it had been when she stood so close to him in the hall, his hands grasping her forearms, but it was agonizing still.

She straightened up and slowly made her way to her locker, pulling out her Euro History book. Another class with Queen Elena. Joy. Fortunately though, it might prove as a distraction to the foreign pain she was feeling.

She didn't even realize that _Rebecca_ wasn't anywhere in sight.

***

Damon stood in the hall for a long moment, deeply confused by the red-head's behavior. The look on her face… It was almost as if she knew. But she couldn't. Not even Stefan knew the kind of pain he was in. He had some vague idea, sure, but he didn't know how much his very soul ached to hold Katherine again.

_Let her go_…

The words echoed in his mind. She couldn't know…

A bit of red caught Damon's eye, and he looked down to see a book with a red cover and yellow and white lettering lying open on the floor. In big yellow letters, the cover read: _Rebecca_, the tail of the R elegantly curling outward. In smaller white letters, the author's name: _Daphne du Maurier_.

He bent down and picked the book up, rubbing his thumb across the cover. He had read the book before several times, it was one of his favorites. It was one of the few novels that drew him into it enough that he could almost forget his pain. _Almost._

The girl had good taste, he realized, better than most. Not many would appreciate a classic like _Rebecca_. Damon smirked triumphantly. He had found the bait with which to catch his prey.


	3. Euro History Misery

_**Dance With The Devil**_

_**Chapter Three: "Euro History Misery."**_

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**A/N: **

_**~ Janie McBrennen**_

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Rose took her seat by the window in the back corner like she always did, ignoring the balled up papers that Tyler Smallwood and his cronies were throwing at her. She looked around the room to see if Elena had deigned to honor the class with her presence. Unfortunately she had. Her latest conquest, Stefan Salvatore, sat beside her like a good puppy should. The two of them eyed each other in a rather disgusting display, making Rose want to upchuck. She rolled her eyes at the pair just as Mr. Tanner strode into the classroom, his usual sneer of revulsion in place. To Rose's horror, the dark young man of her nightmares followed after him.

Why me? she thought wretchedly. _Why???_

To her dismay he caught her eye and smirked at her self-importantly. She would have no peace during this class, she knew. Rose lowered her head, breaking eye contact, in hopes that he would take the hint. Her bushy red hair hid her face from view like a veil, and she could practically feel the young man's displeasure radiating from him across the room.

***

She's _ignoring_ me!? Damon thought wrathfully. How _dare_ she ignore me!

"We have a new student, class," Tanner said unenthusiastically. "Mr. Salvatore's brother, Damon Salvatore has decided to join us. Let's hope he's less like his brother. Take a seat Mr. Salvatore."

Damon sent a shark smile toward Stefan, whose mouth was gaping open like a fish, as he walked up to a nerdy kid sitting next to the redhead. Damon jerked his head in a motion for the boy to give Damon his seat. The nerd moved quickly, obviously used to being treated that way, gathering his stuff hurriedly before taking the seat beside his old one.

The girl gave Damon a look of disappointment as he sat down, as though she had expected better of him. It made his gut clench a little. Odd, he thought. She didn't even know him, yet she already had expectations of him.

Damon pushed aside his thoughts and placed _Rebecca_ on the desk in front of him, watching in amusement as her eyes widened on seeing her book on his desk. He raised his eyebrows at her, challenging her to ask for her book back. For a moment her mouth opened and it looked as though she would, but she seemed to think better of it, closing her mouth and lowering her head, a slight, unintended pout on her lips.

Damon's brow furrowed in irritation. Why didn't she just ask for the damn thing back already and give him a chance to introduce himself? Plan B then, Damon thought, raising his hand lazily.

"Yes, Mr. Salvatore?" Tanner asked, writing on the blackboard without looking at the young man. How do teachers do that? Damon wondered.

"I don't have a book. Can someone share with me?" Damon asked slyly.

Tanner sighed long-sufferingly.

"Very well, Mr. Salvatore. You have two people beside you; pick one."

The shark smile once again stretched Damon's lips, only this time it was directed at the redhead sitting next to him.

"Damon Salvatore," he said to her holding his hand out.

The girl placed her head on the desk in front of her, forehead pressed sullenly against the cold wood.

"Rose Cresswell," she murmured almost incoherently, shaking his hand by the tips of his fingers very briefly.

"Rose," Damon said, tasting her name like an exotic treat. "Perfect."

She turned her head to look at him and glowered sourly. She wasn't amused in the least by his antics.

"Wanna share that book now?" he asked lightly.

"No," Rose said flatly, wiping the smile from his face. "But I will if you give me _my_ book back."

Damon smiled triumphantly as he handed her book back to her. He leaned halfway out of his seat to share her Euro History book, fully aware of how very tense her body was. It didn't keep him from rubbing his finders against hers. He didn't quite expect her to pick the corner of the book up and slam it down on his fingers loud enough for the whole class to hear… but she did. It actually hurt a little.

"Is there a problem, Mr. Salvatore?" Tanner asked coolly.

"No," Damon ground out harshly, yanking his fingers from underneath the book.

"Good," Tanner said, ignoring Damon's tone. "Then I'm sure we won't be having any more noise from your corner, will we?"

"No, sir," Damon said, throwing a menacing glare at Rose who simply gave him a disarming smile.

Maybe this would be tougher than he thought.

***

To Rose's immense relief the bell finally rang, freeing her from Damon and the resentful stares of all the girls in class, as well as the boys' curious glances. Elena and Stefan were probably the worst. Elena looked like Rose had ripped off her favorite pair of heels… except that Damon was supposedly not hers. And Stefan… well, he just looked evil. Fortunately, his glowers were pointed more in the direction of Damon rather than herself. Neither were young men that she wanted to trifle with; she had enough problems with her father as it was _without_ adding boys to the mix. Not that that would be a problem. That Damon Salvatore guy was obviously just trying to jerk her around for his own amusement, probably so he could get on the 'In Crowd's' good side. Rose had had enough experience with people like Tyler Smallwood to know better than to even be nice to people like them. They were conniving, backstabbing, cruel individuals who cared only about themselves, and Rose felt sorry for them. They would spend their lives putting others down to make themselves feel better, cheating on their spouses, kissing their bosses' asses, and living the way they were expected to rather than the way they wanted to. Their lives would be empty. Her heart ached for them. But she had to get home and live her own life, rather than worrying about the lives of people who didn't know she was alive half the time. She couldn't help them any more than they could help her.

Rose walked the halls, trying to forget that she would probably never see her book again, as Salvatore so obviously did not plan on giving it back and she would rather die than ask anything of him, when all of a sudden her foot caught of something and she fell face forward, her books flying from her hands. Rose's face struck the tile hard and pain shot through her head. Her elbow slammed into her ribs hard, ribs that had only just begin recovering her father's last drunken assault. She prayed they hadn't broken. The scars would be difficult to explain.

She laid there for a moment, breathing in deep, slow breaths, trying to catch her breath and keep her consciousness. She couldn't afford to lose either. Her ears rang and her head spun but she knew she had to get up. Rose pushed herself up a little, aware of the shadows gathering around her along with the many pairs of feet. To her discomfort, she saw an uncomfortably large pool of blood where her mouth had hit the floor. She was conscious that her chin, lips, and the inside of her mouth were bleeding rather badly. Her left eye had struck one of her schoolbooks as well, and she was vaguely aware that it would blacken and swell quite badly.

With a shuddering breath, Rose pushed herself up the rest of the way, making her way unsteadily to her feet. The sounds of the mob around her – and they were a mob – slowly came into focus.

"What a klutz that freak is!" a tittering female voice exclaimed. Rose recognized it as Caroline Forbes immediately.

"Need a haircut much?" a boy said, one that Rose didn't quite recognize.

"That's Cresswell for you; barely touched her and she makes a big scene," Tyler Smallwood said to Rose's left. "What an attention whore."

Rose felt fury build within her, and she fought to keep it in check. She could feel her face get red as she struggled for control. She was better than this. She wouldn't sink to their level. Let them laugh. They had to live with themselves, and in a year of so she would be free of them anyway. These thoughts were Rose's salvation, the only things that soothed her wounded spirit. Swallowing her tears of hurt and anger, she bent down took a paper towel she had used to dry her hands with earlier in the girl's bathroom to begin wiping up her blood silently.

Her face was a mask of calm, no trace of emotion to betray her feelings, the blush of anger and humiliation now gone. She would be meek. She would not give them her attention. She would continue on with her life, forgiving them out of pity.

***

The mocking died down. Rose gave no fuel to the fire of their cruelty, and now they were ashamed at this display of her humility, cleaning her own blood up off the floor while still wounded, bleeding and surrounded by scorn. She was graceful in a situation where anyone else would have been angry and made and embarrassing scene.

Damon noticed all this as he watched her from behind the crowd. He didn't dare get any closer than he already was yet. He could see Stefan was facing the same predicament next to Elena, who had been silent as she watched the scene.

It was beyond Damon's comprehension that she took all this with grace, without even so much as a word in her defense. Fury raged inside himself on her behalf. No one had the right to hurt her except him, least of all slime like Tyler Smallwood. He would pay for it later, Damon decided, slipping on his shades. Smallwood would pay for hurting her later.

Taking a deep breath and getting himself under control, Damon stepped forward and started picking up Rose's books. He unceremoniously shoved them into Elena's hands.

"Take these to her locker," he said. It wasn't a request.

Elena simply stared at him in affronted shock at being treated so, but Stefan took the books from her which deflated some of the diva's outrage.

Damon snatched the paper towel from Rose's hand abruptly and threw it on the floor in front of her. She looked at him in confusion for a moment.

"What-?" she began, but off when Damon placed his hands underneath her and picked her up easily.

"What are you doing?" she asked, the look on her face much resembling a deer in the headlights.

"Taking you to the nurse," he said shortly. He wasn't in the mood for this. He didn't play hero. That was Stefan's thing. He didn't save damsels in distress; hell, he was the one usually distressing them to begin with.

"Please," Rose begged, "please don't bother. It's nothing, really."

"You're still _bleeding_," he growled. "I'd say it's a little more than nothing. Now shut up already."

An unintended pout formed on her lips, and she folded her arms, her head sinking a little between her shoulders.

"I'm getting blood on your jacket," she said tersely as he carried her through the halls, ignoring the people staring after them.

"I'll live, I promise," he said, though he wondered if he really would.

Her blood smelled so good to him, and yet the scent of honey-nut cheerios on her breath, most likely from her breakfast that morning, was almost as tempting. He wanted to taste her mouth, not because there was blood inside it, but because her scent was unlike any other human being he had ever smelled. It wasn't just her breath that smelled tempting; her whole body seemed like a buffet. She had the scent of chocolate-chip cookies and vanilla on her, though he couldn't imagine why. He could smell the mint chapstick she'd been put on earlier that day during Euro History while she was ignoring him. He had vaguely registered her scent in his mind earlier, but only as a way to distinguish his prey from all the other mortals in school. But now, so close to her, unable to avoid her scent which was thrust into his nostrils again and again, he really wondered if he would drop dead any moment from denying himself what he wanted. He wanted to taste every inch of her, touch every part of her body with his mouth-

_Stop it_, he told himself. _You'll have her soon enough as it is. She'll be completely at your mercy and you can do whatever you want with her then_.

He didn't know why he wanted to do anything to her, other than kill her that it. She wasn't pretty, but rather plain. Her clothes were baggy and unbecoming. She sure as hell wasn't anything like Katherine or Elena, or even Caroline.

So why then did he want her so badly?


	4. What Is Wrong With Damon Salvatore?

**_Dance With The Devil_**

_**Chapter Four: "What Is Wrong With Damon Salvatore?"**_

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**A/N: Warning: A little sexual content. Not much, just a smidge. Just for dramatics really, to help you delve into Damon's psyche a little more. It's kind of my take on how he thinks, so please don't be offended. One F-word. Sorry. **

_**~ Janie**_

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Rose wasn't used to someone touching her without causing her pain. The concept of actually feeling safe in another's arms was beyond her comprehension, so one can imagine her surprise to find herself tucking her head into Damon Salvatore's neck and closing her eyes comfortably, suddenly very tired and very content. Her subconscious hoped that he never put her down.

Yet as exhausted as she was, thoughts raced through her mind. What was his game? Why was he being kind to her? Why did he care? _Did_ he care?

Eventually though, she simply forced herself to stop thinking and just allowed herself to sleep in peace for once. Heaven knew, it might be a long time yet before she slept so without fear.

***

Had anyone else touched Damon's neck they would have breathed their last breath at that moment. Touching someone's neck was a sign of dominance and power to him, and he had never been one to relinquish power. Yet when Rose's fingers curled around the collar of his jacket, brushing his neck, and her forehead lay pressed into it, he did not go into a fit of rage. He did not snap her neck or tear her jugular out with his teeth. He didn't even get upset. He felt… relaxed. Comfortable. At peace. It was a long lost feeling to him, one that he had not experienced since before Katherine's death. To find peace and comfort in relinquishing power to this plain, sweet, innocent girl was truly beyond his comprehension. This was far above and beyond his comfort zone. He didn't need these feelings right now. He didn't _want_ them – or at least that's what he told himself. But it felt so good, so right.

When he reached the nurse's office, he hesitated to take her inside. It didn't seem like the right place to take her at the moment, but did he dare risk what he was thinking? _Yes_, he decided, turning toward the nearest exit. _I'll take her home_.

***

_She looks so at peace_, Damon thought, as he laid her on the couch of the mansion he and his brother shared. _If she only knew who was taking care of her._ He gave a self-depreciating smile as he trailed the backs of his fingers down the side of her face, moving her hair away from her ivory neck.

_I could do it,_ he thought. _I could kill her. It would be so easy; no one would stop me. No one would even miss her._ Her lips opening a little caught his attention, her breath coming out slowly, deeply, making her chest rise up, pushing her breasts up temptingly. He hadn't noticed how large they were due to her over-sized shirt, but now he could see that she had been very generously endowed.

And yet it was her lips that forced his attention to focus on them. They weren't particularly soft looking, perhaps a little chapped even, but they were unusually dark, a deep rose color, a dark, luscious pink. He hadn't noticed before. Then again, he doubted that anyone got close enough or cared enough to see her few marks of beauty, like her breasts and lips. She had long legs too, he noticed, his eyes trailing down her body.

Damon found it odd that he could so easily forget the heady pull of her blood's scent by observing her not particularly attractive body, especially when blood was still drying on her pale face. It shouldn't have been attractive anyway, that much he knew. Stefan and Tyler certainly deem her attractive, as did none of the other boys at Robert E. Lee High.

He shook his head angrily. _What the hell is wrong with me? She isn't even pretty!_ He was furious at himself for getting so wrapped up in a girl he intended to fuck and then kill, coming as he drank deeply from her jugular. _She's just a game_, he told himself. _Just for fun until Katherine's back in action._

Roughly running his hand through his hair, Damon pulled himself together and strode toward the kitchen to get some things to clean her up. The dry blood on her face was obviously messing with his head.

***

Rose's eyes fluttered open as she slowly began to wake. She couldn't ever remember having slept that well in her life, yet she couldn't remember why. She felt sore all over, like she'd been run over by a bus, but there was nicest feeling of a cool, damp cloth being gently placed on her forehead. She moaned a little at the unusually pleasant feeling before opening her eyes.

She was met with the sight Damon Salvatore's arrogant, smirking face. It should have made her angry and annoyed that he was smirking at her like he believed himself to be a sex god, but she couldn't bring herself to push aside the feelings of gratitude and affection she felt for the boy before her. It had all come back to her the moment she opened her eyes and seen him. He had helped her, taken care of her, cared when no one else would. It made her gut clench in an unfamiliarly beautiful way, making her eyes tear up, blurring the image of his now dearly loved face.

***

_Okay, why the hell is she looking at me like that?_ he thought irritably when he saw her eyes tearing up. _What'd I do to her now? I help her, take her home, fix her up and she starts _crying?_ What the hell!_

Swallowing deeply as a tear escaped from the corner of her eye, Rose reached out and grasped his empty hand in hers, squeezing tightly.

"Thank you," she whispered. "You've been very kind."

Damon's eyes widened considerably in surprise at her gratitude. He hadn't expected it. Anger, irritation, another assault on his finger, yes, that he was prepared for. But gratitude? How was he supposed to react?

"Um, you're welcome?" Damon said, testing the waters.

She smiled a little before looking around her. He could tell that she was still in considerable pain, though she hid it well. _Pretty tough, aren't you, Rosie?_ Damon thought with an inward smirk, a feeling like pride welling up within him.

"Where am I?" she murmured drowsily, her eyelids drooping slightly. She had slept for several hours, but Damon guessed that she didn't sleep much, if at all, most of the time.

"My house," he said lightly.

"The Salvatore place?" she said, looking at him with obvious surprise in her voice.

"Yeah, why? I mean, it's not the Ritz or anything but I figured it was better than the nurse's office," he said sarcastically.

"Oh, I didn't mean to offend you," she said, leaning forward, panic in her eyes. She winced only a little when she hurt herself moving.

"Relax, kid," Damon said, pushing her back gently, his voice a softer tone than before. "I was just kidding."

She did seem to relax, though Damon figured that had more to do with her exhaustion than anything he had said.

"I must've seen the outside of this place a thousand times on my walks," she said, her eyes fluttering as she struggled to keep them open. "I never imagined that I'd ever actually see the inside of it."

"Go back to sleep, red," Damon said, dabbing the cloth on her forehead. "I'll be here when you wake up."

With that, Rose Cresswell finally gave into her craving for slumber.


	5. The Salvatore Place

_**Dance With The Devil **_

_**Chapter Five: "The Salvatore Place." **_

**A/N: Changed the name to **_**Dance With The Devil**_** as it suited the fic better. Hope you like. **

_**~ Janie McB. **_

***

Damon got up and stretched, yawning. Watching Rosie sleep had been pretty interesting, but even he was beginning to get a bit bored. He knew that he wouldn't have long to wait for a bit of a distraction though. Stefan would be home any minute, no doubt with a long, drawn-out speech about how wrong it is to manipulate and use humans to their own ends. Stefan really was quite the boy scout, always playing hero and rescuing some damsel in distress or another. _Well, he can just forget about this damsel_, Damon thought fiercely. _She's mine, and I'm not playing second fiddle to my younger brother… again._

The front door opened roughly and banged shut, causing Damon to wince at the sound. _Doesn't that jackass know that there are people trying to sleep?_ Damon thought irritably.

"_Damon?_" Stefan called sharply.

"In here, _brother_," Damon said through gritted teeth, rolling his eyes.

Stefan quickly strode into the Study, which was just outside the Library where Rose slept peacefully.

"_What the hell did you think you were doing!?"_ Stefan shouted.

Damon ran at an inhuman speed, getting within inches of his brother's face. He placed his index finger to his lips.

"Shh," Damon whispered melodramatically. "She's sleeping."

"_You brought her home!?_" Stefan said in a much more moderate tone of voice.

Damon smirked arrogantly.

"You really make it too easy to irritate you, Stefan," Damon said, turning away from his younger brother. He walked to the Library door, cracking it open a little to see if Stefan's obnoxious noise-making had woken her. He was grateful to hear her slow, even breaths that signified her deep sleep.

Damon turned around to come face to face with his brother, who was trying to look over his shoulder to get a better glimpse of the girl on the couch. Stefan seemed oblivious that the couch was facing the opposite direction.

"What are you doing?" Damon asked irritably.

"I think the question is, what are _you_ doing?" Stefan said, glowering at Damon bitterly. "Do you have any idea what you're doing? Bringing her _here?_ Have you lost your mind?"

Damon rolled his eyes, pushing past his younger brother.

"So melodramatic, Stefan!" he said, plopping down on the couch lazily. "Does Elena know what a drama queen you are?"

"This isn't a joke, Damon. If I'd gone in that room before realizing she was there I could've exposed our secret. What then?"

"Please! Like the whole world doesn't know that you're totally gay!" Damon said, getting up and pouring himself a glass of bourbon.

"_Damon!_" Stefan growled.

"_Stefan!_" Damon chimed.

"If you're thinking of repeating what you did to Caroline, you can forget it. I'll put verbane in everything she eats, drinks and touches. Without it you have no power over her," Stefan said triumphantly.

Damon mulled his younger brother's words over while swirling his bourbon in his glass.

"You know, I don't think I'm going to compel her this time," Damon said musingly. "It'll be so much more of a challenge this way!"

Stefan glowered at Damon, his mouth open to retort when they heard the door handle suddenly turn.

***

Rose's body ached from her nasty fall earlier that day, as did her mouth and jaw, and yet she felt so utterly refreshed. She sat up and stretched languidly, enjoying the feel of her muscles tensing and relaxing with the movement. For a moment the world seemed right… until Rose remembered exactly where she was.

Rose took in her surroundings and realized that Damon Salvatore saving her and bringing her home with him was not a bizarre, unrealistic dream, but exactly what had happened. Her heart started beating faster as she remembered what being held by him felt like, his strong arms around and beneath her. A crimson blush rose up from her neck before settling on her cheeks. She shook her thoughts away and forced her thoughts to another subject.

Being helped by him had been so unexpected, especially after she had smashed his finger in Euro History. Rose had thought that he was just another Tyler Smallwood, having a laugh at her expense, but instead of being the one to trip her or even just stand around and laugh as most others had he had helped her and completely destroyed any chance of popularity at Robert E. Lee. It was rather a shock to her to come across someone so selfless and unconcerned about their reputation. And yet, Rose had a slight feeling that there was more to Damon Salvatore than met the eye.

Rose sighed, running a hand down her face wearily. Her head had begun to pound violently against the inside of her skull but she knew she had to get up. She had to get home and start dinner, and just pray that her father didn't come home drunk again that night. After that fall, the last thing she needed was a beating.

Rose got up from the comfortable couch regretfully, wincing at the pain in her ribs as she moved. With shaky but even breaths, she slowly made her way to the only door in the large, spacious room. She grasped the handle, leaning against the door for a moment as she gathered her strength. Her feelings of refreshment and comfort were gone, and it their place were uneasiness and pain. She opened the door to see Damon and Stefan Salvatore staring at her like she had two heads.

"What?" she said.

***

Damon looked at Rose a little shocked. Her bruises and swelling had worsened despite his careful treatment of her wounds. Her already wild hair was a wreck, her clothes were wrinkled and tangled on her, and she looked about ready to fall over from exhaustion and pain. _How bad _were_ her injuries?_ Damon thought in astonished irritation. He didn't know why seeing her all bruised and hurt irritated him so he brushed it off carelessly.

"You look like you were run over by a bus," Damon said, eyeing her up and down.

Stefan winced at his brother's tactlessness.

"I _feel_ like I was run over by a bus," Rose said in dry sarcasm, surprising both Damon and Stefan. "You don't happen to know what time it is, do you?"

Damon glanced at the grandfather clock to his left.

"About six-thirty. Why?"

Damon watched the transformation of Rose's features. Panic and sheer terror replaced her formerly calm demeanor, her face paling significantly.

"Oh God! No…" she muttered, heading for the door to her right.

"What are you doing?" Damon asked, irritated when Stefan asked at the same time what was wrong. _Damn him and his knight in shining armor routine_, Damon thought bitterly.

"I have to get home," Rose said, pausing to look back at Damon, her hand poised on the door handle.

"Well, it might be hard to do that using that door," Damon said, smirking. "It's to a closet."

"Oh," Rose said, a blush resting on her cheeks, contrasting against the ivory, blues and blacks that were the current colors of her skin.

"I'll take you home," Stefan said, his offer sounding more like a command.

Damon glowered at Stefan, hating him for asking before he could.

"_I'll_ take her home," Damon said, possessiveness lacing his every word. "You have to go check on Elena. Make sure she's… _alright_."

Stefan's eyes narrowed in hate at Damon's veiled threat, but he knew that Damon had him beat this time.

"_Neither_ of you are taking me home," Rose snapped irritably. "And will you two just put them on a table and measure them already. I've been in the room for less than five minutes and I'm already choking on the testosterone in the room."

Damon and Stefan looked at Rose in surprise, shocked at her innuendo as well as her sharp tongue.

"Well, aren't you a little spitfire," Damon mused.

"I'm sorry, alright?" Rose said desperately. "But I really don't have time for this. I have to get home."

"Well, if you're in a hurry then there's no reason I can't take you home, now is there?" Damon said triumphantly.

"Actually there is," Rose said shortly.

"Really? Alright, give me one good reason then."

"My father would kill you," she said seriously.

Damon almost burst out laughing but controlled himself at the solemn look on her face.

"Trust me, that won't be a problem," Damon said confidently.

"_Fine_. I don't have any more time to argue with you," she said wearily, rubbing her eyes.

Stefan looked at her with pity but Damon just smiled triumphantly.

_Round two goes to Damon Salvatore…_


	6. Rosie's Dad

_**Dance With The Devil **_

_**Chapter Six: "Rosie's Dad."**_

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**_

**A/N: Changed the name to **_**Dance With The Devil**_** as it suited the fic better. Hope you like. By the by, Katherine is the same as she was in the tv series, but Elena is the same as she was in the book. Matt and Vickie are brother and sister. Basically everything is based on the tv series except when specified otherwise. **

**Thanks to my readers, and most especially to my reviewers. I love ya! **

_**~ Janie McB.**_

_**

* * *

**_

"Stop it," Rose said without emotion.

Damon looked at her with a raised eyebrow as he turned a corner in his 'borrowed' black Porsche. _Not like they'll miss it…_

"Stop what?" he asked slyly.

She turned to him with a raised eyebrow of her own, her arms crossed over her chest. Her hair was falling into her eyes and she brushed it away, making Damon feel a little warm all of a sudden.

"Stop staring at me out of the corner of your eye. You're nowhere near as slick as you think you are, you know. Certainly not subtle by any means," she finished, staring out the window again.

"I thought I was being pretty subtle," Damon said in mock defense.

He'd been staring at her since they'd gotten in the car – he just couldn't seem to help himself. She looked so fragile, so vulnerable with her face all bruised up like that. He wanted to take her to the doctor but he knew that she wouldn't like having people poke and prod her, which was his reason for foregoing the school nurse's office earlier. Still, he hadn't felt that protective since Katherine was alive – not that he was comparing Rosie with Katherine. It was no contest, and Rosie of course was just entertainment; she didn't mean a thing.

"You _would_ think so, wouldn't you?" Rosie said, miserably failing to hide the amusement in her voice.

Damon smirked, looking at her openly this time. He caught her eye very briefly and saw that her green eyes were sparkling with hidden laughter, yet no smile graced her lips. That moment, brief though it had been, had shown Damon a glimpse of who she was when no one was looking, and he wanted nothing more than to see more of that girl. He didn't know why, all he knew was what he wanted, and Damon Salvatore was not the kind of guy who denied himself anything if he really wanted it.

"So," Rosie said, her amusement completely gone, the emotionless mask she wore back in place. "When do I get my book back?"

A smirk of triumph curled Damon's lips. He knew she would ask eventually.

"What book?" Damon asked, playing clueless.

"I see," she said coldly, her brow furrowing in a frown.

She turned away from him to look out the window, and Damon could practically feel her build up an invisible wall between them. He felt a sudden desperation to break it down, to tear down all her walls and be let in. He pulled over to the side of the road they were on, woods surrounding them on both sides. Her house apparently was a little ways out of town. He could see her looking at him from the corner of her eye as he reached into his jacket, pulling out the book she seemed so attached to.

"Here," he said, holding the book out to her.

She looked at it for a moment, then looked up at him before reaching out slowly, allowing her fingers to wrap around the spine. Damon made sure his fingers brushed hers, but unlike at school she didn't retaliate; she didn't even move. She simply sat there, her hand on the book, his hand on hers now, waiting, frozen. And then she looked up at him, sorrow, compassion and tears in her eyes. She felt his pain and the word 'Katherine' stretched out between them like a tangible thing. That word was in the air, Damon could feel it, almost hear it in her thoughts.

He was about to 'compel' her into telling him how she knew, how she could possibly know what had never been said between them, when the sound of a car passing slowly by them caught their attention. Damon turned to look and saw that Rosie did the same.

There was only one person in the beat up truck with chipped blue paint: a man in the driver's seat. His eyes were hollow-looking and seemed filled with anger and hate as he looked back at the two youths in the black Porsche. Damon didn't know why but his gut clenched in fear. It was completely ridiculous for Damon to be afraid of that pathetic excuse of a man, but a red flag seemed to go up when he laid eyes on him.

Damon turned back to Rose, only to find her face white as a sheet, her eyes still glued to the beat up truck that was now speeding away from them. Her entire body was trembling.

"What's wrong?" Damon asked, not bothering to hide the concern in his voice.

"I have to get home," Rosie said, her voice trembling as much as her body.

"Tell me what is wrong?" Damon said more forcefully, turning her body toward him, forcing her to look up at him.

"That- The man in the truck…"

"You know him?" Damon asked incredulously.

Swallowing with difficulty, she nodded slowly, looking like a child when faced with the boogeyman.

"Is he your dad?" Damon asked darkly.

She nodded her head, and the blood in Damon's veins felt as though it had been lit on fire. She was afraid of him, of her own father, and Damon didn't even want to begin guessing why.

"Rosie-"

"Please take me home," she asked hollowly.

Damon sat there looking at her for a moment, watching as she turned around and stared emotionlessly in front of her. The trembling had subsided, and other than her eyes, which looked empty and devoid of emotion, there was no trace of the frightened episode that had occurred seconds ago.

Reluctantly, Damon shifted gears and pulled away from the side of the road, tearing his eyes away from her. What did it matter, anyway, if she was afraid of her father? It wasn't his concern if the old man yelled at her and upset her. Damon refused to think that Rosie suffered anything worse at the hands of her father, knowing the very thought of it would make him sick and furious, and knowing instinctively that Rosie suffered a lot worse than anything he dared to think on.


	7. Helpless And Left For Dead

_**Dance With The Devil **_

_**Chapter Seven: "Helpless And Left For Dead."**_

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**_

**A/N: Changed the name to Dance With The Devil as it suited the fic better. Hope you like. By the by, Katherine is the same as she was in the tv series, but Elena is the same as she was in the book. Matt and Vickie are brother and sister. Basically everything is based on the tv series except when specified otherwise. **

**Thanks to my readers, and most especially to my reviewers. I love ya! **

**P.S. **

**I own nothing but the plot and my OCs, which can be used only with my express permission. Though I'd trade any and all my OCs for Damon. *wink* **

_**~ Janie McB.**_

_**

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**_

Damon wanted to bang his head against a tree. He was frustrated and hungry, but he couldn't concentrate on anything but Rosie, let alone actually hunting. He certainly didn't dare go after a human in the state he was in, lest he make a fatal error. All he could think about was Rose Cresswell and if that mysterious girl was in trouble because of him. Is he yelling at her right now? Damon wondered, pacing on the dampened soil in the cemetery. Is he hitting her? The last thought made Damon's stomach turn violently for reasons he refused to explain.

He wouldn't go to her though. He refused to be weak, to let her get under his skin. He _would_ fight this and he _would_ win. He would see her in school in a few hours anyway – five hours and sixteen minutes if his watch was right – and then he could kill her and get it all out of his system. God, _why_ did the thought of killing her make him want to wretch! It wasn't fair!

Damon looked down at the red cover of the book he was holding. "Rebecca," it read in large, elegant letters, the tail of the R curling out, dwarfing the others. Rosie had left it in the car in her haste to get inside the house when he had taken her home earlier that day. He remembered how nervously she hurried in getting out of the car, though still taking the time to politely thank him for everything. She was such a wonder to him, such a mystery. She behaved as though she was in mortal peril and she still managed to be well-mannered.

Damon felt anxious when he thought of her, but felt absolutely calm when with her. She made him feel human, and he hadn't felt that way in a long, long time. Maybe he had never really felt that way before. Maybe he had always been this way, this animal that he was now, so unconcerned about human life, or life of any kind for that matter.

Damon shook his thoughts away, focusing on the book in his hand. He had read it when it first came out but it had been such a long time ago that he hardly remembered anything about it. He leaned against a nearby tree and slid down, making himself comfortable. He had about five hours to kill and he really didn't feel like napping. He opened the first page and delved into the world of Max de Winter and his second wife, being pulled into the enigma of the mysterious death of Rebecca.

***

Rose lay curled into the fetal position on the peeling laminate tile of the kitchen floor, no sense of time or meaning filling her mind. Nothing at first, only that this beating was worse than the last one and she would have to stay home from school. Then, slowly, recollections of the beating came to mind, but it wasn't the pain that she remembered, it was what got her through it. Damon Salvatore and his charming smile of all things had seen her through one of the most severe beatings she had endured since her mother had left with another man when she was eight.

Before Rose knew it, her mind was swamped with thoughts of the enigmatic Damon Salvatore. Who was he? Where was he from? What was his favorite color? Book? Movie? How long was he going to stay in Fell's Church? Would he talk to her again? Did he guess at what her father did to her? Did he care? _It doesn't matter_, her subconscious answered for her. _He isn't for you_.

But that didn't keep Rose from fantasizing and pretending that maybe, just maybe…

***

Damon had haunted the halls of class all day, no sign of Rose Cresswell to be found. He had become so frustrated that he had even asked several people where she was and why she wasn't at school. They didn't know. They didn't care, for that matter. She was below their radar – even the druggies, geeks, skater punks and losers were too above her to deign to notice her whereabouts.

When he had finally had enough of interrogating students and receiving dirty looks from his brother, who had stalked him during the whole process, Damon made his way to the Administrator's Office. He managed to 'convince' the administrator to let him take a peek at Rose's files. What he learned didn't comfort him.

She was often absent from class – _too_ absent. He highly doubted that Rose would be afraid of her father the way she was if he didn't care what she did or how she did it, so the absences couldn't have been her sole doing. They had to have had something to do with him, one way or another, because it was obvious that Rosie didn't _dare_ defy him. Damon didn't need to be a genius to figure out that that something was up. The question was did he really _want_ to know? Was it all worth his peace of mind? Was _she_ worth his peace of mind?

Damon stood in the empty hall, his head resting against the wall and his eyes closed in frustration and unusual weariness. He hadn't fed that day. Oddly enough he had forgotten. To think of it, he hadn't had anything since long before he had dropped Rosie off, and even then he had hardly had his usual voracious appetite. Something had been off with him since the day he had first took real notice of her as she passed him that day when he was sitting under that tree and now he was almost getting _concerned_ for her, of all things.

Damon's thoughts were interrupted when he felt a familiar presence near him in what was supposed to be an empty hall.

"Do you need something, Stefan, or is your intention to lobotomize me by glare?" Damon said, putting on his usual front of fractiousness and sarcasm. He opened his eyes and looked at his younger brother, eyebrows cocked in an arrogant, taunting manner.

"What's wrong?" Stefan said emotionlessly with his arms folded across his chest, all business as usual.

"Now, now, brother, don't tell me you're actually _worried_ about me? Oh, that's just _too sweet_," Damon said, the temperature of his voice somewhere far below subzero. Damon pushed off the wall and began circling his brother, the predator in him showing its face.

"There may have been a time when I would've been concerned for you, Damon, but that time came and went a very long time ago," Stefan said darkly. "Something's off with you. You've been acting upset all day, and I want to know _why_. You haven't tried anything with Elena since you started stalking that girl, and now she isn't here today. You'll answer for that too. Where is she and what the hell is going on?"

Stefan's features were like steel and he seemed determined to get into Damon's business. Again. Had Damon been less exhausted and frustrated, had he fed like he ought to have, then he probably would've found some way to put Stefan in his place, threaten Elena, do something to piss the Boy Scout off. But as it was, Damon was tired, hungry, frustrated, and emotional wreckage at the moment. Which was why he just gave in for once.

He sighed and ran his hand through his hair before answering.

"I took her home last night, but something went wrong."

"What? What went wrong?" Stefan asked, his entire body going tense. He was just waiting for Damon to confess, to give him yet another reason to hate him, and Damon knew it. Had it been any other time he would've taken satisfaction at throwing his brother for a loop.

As it was, Damon merely filled him in on the bare facts; Rose's fear of her father, the dead look in her eyes after she asked to be taken home, that she had left behind the same book that had seemed so important to her before, the horrific condition of the house she and her father lived in. He said nothing of forgetting to feed but he knew that Stefan knew; it was in his eyes. Damon chose not to say anything of the bizarre experience in the car when he had touched her hand, or the distinct feeling that Rosie knew about Katherine and what he was. Stefan was curious enough as it was, Damon wasn't about to hand him another reason to put his nose into all this.

"What are you going to do?" Stefan asked after a long silence.

"I'm going to go over to her place and pay her a little visit, see why she didn't show up for school today. Her bruises from being tripped were bad, Stefan, but not bad enough to stay home over."

Stefan's lips curled up slightly into an arrogant smirk.

"Are you actually _concerned_ for her, Damon?"

Damon's gut clenched. _Was_ he concerned for her? He knew the answer but refused to even mentally acknowledge it, least of all with his brother near.

"Really Stefan, you surprise me," Damon said, returning his brother's smirk and leaning against the wall again. "You ought to know by now that she's just a bit of entertainment."

"There's plenty of that kind of 'entertainment' in Fell's Church, Damon," Stefan replied, his eyebrow lifted challengingly. "Why so concerned about what happens to her?"

"_I'm not_," Damon gritted out. Why was it so hard to keep his head when it came to her? "I just don't want anyone spoiling my fun with Rosie, that's all."

"Rosie?" Stefan said, mimicking Damon's usual cold arrogance perfectly.

"Go to hell!" Damon snapped, walking away quickly. "And take your bitch Elena with you when you go!"


	8. He Shouldn't Want Her

_**Dance With The Devil **_

_**Chapter Eight: "He Shouldn't Want Her."

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**A/N: I'm really sorry for not getting this out faster but I cut off the tip of my finger the other day and typing has been an utter pain since. I'm lucky I didn't have to go to the hospital so please forgive me. Pretty please… **

**Thanks to my readers, and most especially to my reviewers. I love ya! **

**P.S. **

**I own nothing but the plot and my OCs, which can be used only with my express permission. Though I'd trade any and all my OCs for Damon. *wink* **

_**~ Janie McB.

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**_

Damon had walked all the way to Rosie's house, disturbed by his reaction to Stefan's questions earlier. He didn't know why he was so hot under the collar when it came to that plain, freckle-faced girl with the wild hair. He didn't know why he cared so much about whether or not she was alright.

He had fed on the way, though he was much more quickly finished than he ought to have been after being so long without sustenance. He couldn't seem to focus on his hunting though, and he wondered if it was because animal blood was so much less tantalizing than human blood that his appetite seemed unusually weak.

Damon walked into a clearing from the woods, and there it sat: Rose Cresswell's home, if one dared to even call it that. It really was an awful wreck. The faded white paint was peeling from the three story house, and there was evidence of mice and other vermin. Damon shrank from the thought of Rosie – _his_ Rosie, living in a place like that. And she really was his. She had been from the moment he had first decided to pursue her, though being his had recently taken on a very different meaning.

Damon hesitated to knock on the door, half thinking that it would fall off if it was so much as even breathed on. But it stayed firmly in place when he knocked loudly on it. He didn't give a damn about the door anyway. So what if it fell off?

For a long time no one answered. He knocked again, even louder, and this time the door really did almost fall off. Damon heard the noise of someone loudly rising from their seat, a string of muttered curses flowing from the other side of the door into Damon's ears.

The door was suddenly yanked open by the man Damon had seen passing him and Rosie in his Porsche the day before, and a wave of anger and disgust washed over Damon, settling in the pit of his stomach.

"What do ya want?" the man slurred, obviously sloshed. His breath was rank and unbearable to Damon's inhumanly sensitive nose, and it took great strength of will not to break the man's neck. Or at least it would have been if the man had not been safely inside the house Damon was going to try to get invited into.

Damon forced a charming smile to his face, his teeth glinting dangerously in the afternoon sunlight.

"My name is Damon Salvatore, I'm a friend of Rosie's. She left her book in my car the other day and I came to return it," Damon said smoothly, pulling the book out of his jacket's inside pocket.

The man looked at Damon as though he were a bug that would be better off squished. It made Damon's blood boil with rage.

"Keep it. She don't need to be readin' that trash anyways. And you ain't her friend. She ain't got friends, has no need for 'em," the man said, a sneer on his oily face.

"That isn't your decision to make," Damon ground out furiously. He'd had enough of this. "And I _am_ her friend, whether you like it or not. And if she isn't in school tomorrow, you'd better leave town. _Fast_. Because if she isn't there tomorrow you're going to want a head start in running from me, because when I catch you – and I _will_ catch you, old man – you're going to wish you'd listened to me. And if there's so much as a _scratch_ on her when I see her tomorrow, I will reach inside your mouth and rip your fucking _spine_ out of your _throat_. One. Vertebrae. _At a time_."

Damon didn't have a clue if what he said was even comprehendible, but he was so furious he didn't care. His face was now inches from the older man's, and he could almost feel the man's fearful trembling from there. Mr. Cresswell's eyes were as wide as saucers, and he looked utterly terrified and ready to wet himself.

"Do we understand each other?" Damon said with mock pleasantness.

The man shook his head up and down fervently. He may have been drunk but at least he was wise enough to shut up and agree. The man retreated back into the house and shut the door with a loud bang. Damon tried to stop Cresswell but he couldn't as he hadn't been invited in. Damon wanted to kick something, and just barely refrained. He wanted to go out and kill someone, namely Cresswell.

Damon sighed and ran a hand roughly through his hair. In the other hand he still held Rosie's book. Damon looked down at it and ran his thumb over the cover. It was red and had a rose on it, redder than the blood he consumed daily, but strangely the rose didn't remind him of blood. It reminded him of _her_, of the girl who so valued that little book. He had read it from cover to cover after he had dropped her off the day before. It seemed like so long now when she had gotten out of his black Porsche with a polite little goodbye, forgetting her beloved book.

What was she doing now? he wondered. Was she reading another book, or watching a television sitcom? Was she cooking dinner or relaxing in the bath? The thought of her naked body covered in water up to her slender neck, her red, brassy curls tumbling over her shoulders and the water, sent a delicious, sinful chill down his body, straight to his groin. He almost moaned at the thought and he hated himself for it. She wasn't anything remarkable, certainly not pretty. _Well_, he thought, _maybe that isn't quite true_. He thought of her eyes, forest green with specks of brown and gold in them, and wild, so very wild and deep, like the woods he so loved to hunt in. And her mouth, her remarkable little mouth, always pouting a little when she was concentrating very hard on something. Her lips were dry-looking and chapped but their shape was bow-like and he longed to brush his thumb across them, to lightly touch his lips to hers simply to see if she would open her mouth in a little gasp of surprise. Damn, he hated himself. He shouldn't be thinking about her, but Katherine. He should have been thinking up ways to torment Stefan like he always did, to get Elena to kiss him, _something_ other than the feel of Rose Cresswell's lips against his or her body pressed tightly against his own or his fingers tangled in her wild mane of hair.

Damon rubbed his eyes wearily and walked down the porch steps. He took his time entering the forest and heading for town. He needed coffee. _Badly_. He was far too distracted to notice the familiar figure of his brother hiding in a shadow nearby, watching him. Nor did he see the triumphant smile that spread across Stefan's face.


	9. She Really Does Have A Beautiful Smile

_**Dance With The Devil **_

_**Chapter Nine: "She Really Does Have A Beautiful Smile..."**_

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**A/N: Hey, thanks to everyone who was so concerned about my finger. It's a lot better now. And thanks for the mass of reviews that have been flooding my mailbox. I can't tell you how much it means to me. =) **

**I own nothing but the plot and OCs. **

_**~ Jane McB.**_

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Rose searched the reflection in the mirror for the courage she would need to get through her first day back at school. She saw nothing but a worthless coward that was too afraid of the System to tell someone what her father did to her. But it wasn't just that. She still loved her father, regardless of his actions. She had to for the sake of her sanity. She had so much love bottled up inside her and the need to release even a little of it weighed on her. She _needed_ to love him, to forgive him and move on. It gave her a reason to keep breathing, to not jump into Drowning Creek headfirst and end her miserable existence. And she wanted to. God help her but she wanted it all to end. The scars on her arm and the emergency room visits attested to that fact.

But she wouldn't be weak. She would keep going, just as she always did, invisible to those around her until they deigned to torture her in some new way. Except for Damon Salvatore. He had never once hurt her or mocked her. It really was just a matter of time, but the fact that it hadn't happened yet was a cold comfort that she clung to.

Rose looked out the bathroom window to see sunlight just beginning to peak through the trees in the woods. She wondered what he was doing at that very moment. Sleeping? It was likely, as it wasn't even five-thirty yet. Did he still have her book or had he chucked it in frustration that she had forgotten it?

She refused to admit to herself that the idea that he might talk to her again to give the book back gave her exactly the courage she'd been looking for in the mirror a moment ago.

***

Damon had once again slept in the forest. He knew that if he went home Stefan would interrogate him mercilessly about Rosie.

Standing now in the halls, waiting for Rosie and rubbing his thumb across the cover of her book, he wondered anxiously if his threat had been enough to save her any more pain – and he knew that she had suffered great pain. He could sense it – _feel_ it even. And it drove him wild. He realized that he had been sensing it on and off since the last time he'd seen Rosie when he dropped her off at her house. Knowing that he hadn't done anything about shouldn't have made him feel ill. It shouldn't have made him hate himself. But it did.

Not noticing or caring that everyone in the hall was staring at him as they made their way to their first classes, Damon rubbed the heels into his closed eyelids in an attempt to alleviate some of the tension growing there.

"She here yet?"

_Oh God, not now…_

"Is who here, _brother?_" Damon said, spitting the last word out in disgust.

"Fine," Stefan said, sighing in resignation. "Be that way. I was only trying to help."

"_Help me?_ I need your help like I need a stake through my heart," Damon snarled, his usual restraint long gone from exhaustion and hunger. "As if _you_ could ever help _me!_"

Stefan looked at him, eyes a little wider in shock than they had been before. Then a look of understanding molded his features and softened his eyes. He took a step forward, getting far too close to his brother for Damon's taste.

"When's the last time you fed, Damon?"

"Mind your own business, or your girlfriend just might be my next meal," Damon said viciously. He hated his brother for knowing, for catching almost immediately what had taken him hours to figure out. Was it really so obvious?

It was with embarrassment that Damon saw his brother notice the red-covered book. He quickly hid it behind his back, even though he knew Stefan had already seen it. Stefan raised an eyebrow at his brother, obviously struck by how odd Damon's behavior was.

Stefan opened his mouth to say something but thought better of it and closed his mouth again. He gave Damon a quick nod and walked briskly away.

Damon sighed and leaned against the wall in relief, closing his eyes. He wasn't up to this, physically or mentally. And that was when he smelled it. Her scent, beautiful and unique. He hadn't even realized until that moment that he had noticed Rosie's scent but he would recognize the smell of her cheap lavender shampoo, fabric softener, and cinnamon anywhere, and he recognized it now. It was an odd scent but at that very moment it was closer to heaven for him as anything he had ever experienced.

His eyes snapped open and his breath caught. His entire bodyweight relied on the wall for support, as he was unable to support it himself. Seeing her rifling through her locker, not a bruise in sight, made him weak-kneed. His entire body felt as though it was made of Jell-o. _She's alright. Thank God, she's alright!_ It had been years since he had thanked God for anything but now, seeing her standing there in her horrible, tragic clothes, he was happy to do it.

Slowly, he made his way to her, pushing through the thinning crowd of students, oblivious to those around him. He stood behind her for several moments before anything happened, but she finally stilled, her hand still in her locker. She slowly removed her hand and turned around to face him.

To Damon's surprise she didn't seem startled at all. It was as though she had known it was him when she turned around- but that was impossible. She couldn't have known… It didn't matter anyway. All that mattered at that moment was the war raging within himself. It took every fiber of his control to not take her into his arms and kiss her and-

"Hi," she said, her voice trembling in nervousness.

He almost grinned in relief that she seemed almost as undone as him. He settled for a soft smile instead.

"Hi," he said back.

"You came by my house," she said, her voice soft. It wasn't a question.

"Yeah, I did."

"Why?" she asked, her confusion obvious.

Damon stepped forward with the intention of answering her question with a kiss, but he stopped at the fearful look in her eyes. Instead he lifted her book between their faces.

"You left your book in my car," he said, smirking a little.

His heart stopped at the look on her face. Was that disappointment he saw there? He couldn't tell because as soon as it had appeared the look was gone. She reached between them and took the book gently, the skin on her arm covering in goose bumps when his fingers deliberately touched hers. To his chagrin, she snatched her hand back quickly as though she had been burned, taking the book with her.

"Thank you," she said with forced politeness, nodding to him and turning back to her locker.

Damon frowned at being ignored as he watched her fiddle around with things in her locker.

"Will you have lunch with me?" he blurted out.

She whirled around in shock, and Damon noticed with sudden fury that she winced in pain at the sudden movement. She looked torn and so very weary then that Damon half wished he hadn't asked.

"I- I can't," she said, regret clearly written on her face.

She slammed her locker shut and began moving down the hall, fumbling with the heavy books she had taken out of her locker. Mindlessly, Damon took them from her. She looked at him in genuine surprise but he ignored it. Hadn't anyone ever carried her books to class before?

"Why? What's stopping you?"

"I just can't, okay?" she said desperately. "Please, _please_ leave me be. I don't know what you want from me but whatever it is I can't give it to you."

Damon almost stopped at that. What _did_ he want from her? Blood? Sex? Something else maybe?

"What makes you think I want anything?" he answered smoothly, keeping pace with her.

"No one's ever been kind to me without a reason," she said, her voice completely lacking in the bitterness one would expect to find in such a statement.

"Maybe I'm different," he said as they stopped in front of a class door. Her class. Biology. He didn't take Biology but he'd take it today.

"You have no idea how much I want to believe that," she whispered, her voice so low that had he not been what he was he would have missed the words entirely.

"Are you going to join us or stay out there?" a teacher said from inside the room.

Damon glared at the man for interrupting. The Biology teacher cleared his throat and turned back to the blackboard.

"I'd better go in," she said, gently taking the books from him.

"_We_ had better go in," he said, smirking with all the charm he had in him.

Instead of smiling though as he had expected her to, her brow furrowed and she frowned.

"But you don't have your Biology book with you."

Mustering even more charm, he smiled disarmingly.

"Well, then I guess I'll have to throw myself on your mercy and ask you to share with me, won't I?"

To his surprise, she rolled her eyes, smiling wryly back at him.

"Fine, I'll share with you. But none of that funny business like last time, or your may actually _lose_ a finger this time," she said, amusement in her voice.

He wondered how often she smiled. Not often if the shocked looks on her classmates' faces as they walked in were anything to tell by.

_She really does have a beautiful smile though…_


	10. Broken By A Vampire

_**Dance With The Devil **_

_**Chapter Ten: "Broken By A Vampire."

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**A/N: I am soooooo sorry for not updating sooner. I was having serious internet connection problems. So very sorry. **

**I own nothing but the plot and OCs. **

**IMPORTANT NOTICE: This chapter is dedicated to Yifrodit, who will be making a banner for this story. Cheers to Yifrodit!!! **

_**~ Jane McB.

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**_

After Biology, Damon excused himself to go to the Administration Office. When he was there he quickly changed his class schedule to match that of Rosie's, cursing himself for not having thought of it before.

Afterwards, he made his way to the lunchroom as it was too late to join Rosie in class. He waited there for her but even when students began piling in he didn't see her. He finally took his search outside. He spotted Caroline, Tyler Smallwood, Bonnie, Matt, Elena, Stefan, pretty much everyone but Rosie.

He was ready to rip someone's throat out when it occurred to him to use the Powers. It was difficult as he hadn't been feeding properly over the last few days, but eventually he found her, sitting under a tree near the football field. She was reading her silly book, as usual, when he walked up to her slowly and quietly.

She looked almost lovely, he realized. Certainly not plain as he had first thought. Not beautiful, but still nowhere near plain. Her brassy red curls seemed to be everywhere, shining in the sunlight that peeked through the leaves of the tree giving her shelter. Her skin seemed translucent in that light. It was so pale, with just a spattering of delicate light brown freckles on her cheekbones and nose. It was only then when examining her so intently that he realized how thin she really was. She looked like a skeleton, gaunt, and too pale now that he was paying attention. She looked sickly and ill-fed.

A pang went through his heart when he saw her meager lunch. A peanut butter and jelly sandwich but with one slice of bread bent in half instead of the regular two slices, and the peanut butter and jelly spread so thin he doubted she could even taste it. He felt ill as he saw how she savored every bite slowly, as though she didn't know when she'd eat again. He wanted to vomit.

Damon looked around, hunting for something decent to steal. _Ah, there_, he thought. _A bacon and turkey sandwich, a bag of potato chips and a can of grape pop._ The boy sitting in front of it would be a problem though. He was surrounded by other geeks of his kind, so using the Powers was out. _Caroline,_ he thought. _Where's Caroline…_ He spotted her eating lunch with that Matt Bennet guy. _Well, that's less than convenient_, he thought dryly. _The Powers it is then._

He closed his eyes and reached out to her mind, opening them when he made the initial contact. _Car-o-liiine_, he sang into her mind. He watched in triumph as she jumped and spilled her juice all over herself. It was when she got up to wipe off the offending juice that Damon made his move. She stilled, the juice dripping off of her skirt as that Bennet buffoon asked her if she was alright. She didn't answer but walked slowly over to the boy whose sandwich Damon wanted for Rosie, Bennet calling after her. She tapped the boy on the shoulder, and Damon could see the blank look on her face from there as the boy turned around in surprise. She then bent down and kissed him soundly, allowing for a distraction.

As Caroline tried to practically rape the boy where he sat, Bennet trying to pull her off, Damon quickly grabbed the items he needed and headed for the tree, releasing his hold on Caroline's mind. He'd let them sort out their own problems. He didn't much care that he'd been the cause of them.

Damon walked around the tree, out of her sight as Caroline's shrieks of outrage caught Rosie's attention, causing her to look the other way. He sat down heavily, making certain that she heard him. She did, and spun around toward him in an instant, her wild hair whipping into her face.

"Hi," Damon said companionably, grinning as he took a bite out of half of his filched turkey sandwich.

"Wha- I mean- Where…" she stuttered, looking between the lunch tables where the ruckus still continued and Damon's calm face.

Damon smirked at her.

"You looked so comfortable under this tree I thought I'd join you," he said.

She closed her eyes and sighed long-sufferingly.

"I told you," she said, looking him straight in the eyes, her gaze chillingly unflinching, "I _can't have lunch with you._" She said the words slowly, as though to a toddler who didn't understand. He should've found it condescending. But he didn't. Instead, he found it rather adorable that she felt the need to coddle him, a full-grown vampire that could break her in two if he chose to, with a soft, motherly tone.

"We're not having lunch," he said, ignoring her doubtful look. "We're just two people sitting under the same tree who happen to be eating. No big deal."

"It _is_ a big-"

"He won't find out."

Rosie went sheet white at his words. He could almost hear her thoughts then. _Oh God. He's knows. He knows…_ It made him angry that she should look so afraid of him when he hadn't even done anything to her.

"No one's going to tell your old man, and if they do, so what? I'll take care of it. He won't hurt you," Damon said, looking into her eyes with all the intensity he had in him. "I promise."

held her chin between his thumb and forefinger, and forced her head up gently to make her look at him. Her eyes opened then, glistening with tears.

"Hey," he said. "I _promise_."

A look of bitter disappointment settled on her features that was completely out of place on her. And then she laughed, a cold, hollow sound that echoed right into Damon's bone marrow.

"Why?" she asked bitterly. "Because you can? Because you're powerful enough that you feel like you can interfere in anyone's and everyone's lives whenever you feel like it? I've lived to see a lot of promises broken. One too many of them were broken by a vampire."


	11. Satisfied

_**Dance With The Devil **_

_**Chapter Eleven: "Satisfied."**_

**A/N: Thanks for the mass of reviews that have been flooding my mailbox. I can't tell you how much it means to me. **

**I own nothing but the plot and OCs. **

_**~ Jane McB.

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**_

Damon watched in cold shock as she rose from where she had sat only a moment ago, walking quickly away from him toward the football field. It took a moment for it all to sink in. _She knows. She knows what I am and she isn't afraid…_

After it finally did sink in thought he chased after her, using the Powers to catch up with her and cut her off. She didn't even flinch at what would have surely sent anyone else screaming in terror. He had just used inhuman speed in front of her and she didn't even _flinch_. How could that be?

"How?" Damon whispered fiercely. "How do you _know?_"

Rage boiled within him, though it wasn't from anything she'd done. It had nothing at to do with her. He was furious at how unfair it was. He'd wanted her. He could've had her, and now she _knew_. Why did she have to _know?_

He watched her sad eyes, so deep and old for her age, as she looked at him. She took a deep breath before answering.

"I… I knew a vampire once," she said quietly. "A long time ago-"

"_No_," Damon said, grasping Rose's shoulders tightly. "How did you know about _me?" _

"I… don't really know. For sure, that is," she said, stumbling over the words. "Sometimes, I just know things. No reason or rhyme to it. I just _know_."

It was like Katherine all over again, only Stefan wasn't the one at fault this time. It was what he was that was to blame for this, and there was nothing he could do to change it. Damon felt the world beneath him opening up to swallow him, and he was just about to let it when he heard her voice again.

"I'm not mad about it," Rosie said softly, comfortingly. It was the voice of a mother soothing her child.

"What?" Damon asked, everything around him a blur.

"About you being a vampire," she whispered, looking around to make sure no one was near enough to hear them. "I don't even really mind it that much."

He almost couldn't comprehend what she was saying to him. She didn't _mind?_ Was she completely insane?

"You should sit down," she said, leading him back to the tree they had been sitting under and pushing him down into a sitting position. "You look like you're about to faint."

If he hadn't been so shocked he might have been offended. Then again, he might have thought it adorable that she was coddling him again. He didn't know. All he knew at that moment was that she was laying his head in her lap, rubbing his temples calmly. _I'm asleep_, Damon thought. _ That's right, I'm asleep. I'm just dreaming_. He knew it wasn't true but the thought held some comfort for his befuddled mind.

Soon Rose picked her book back up and turned to what seemed to be the first page, thought there was a slip of paper bookmarking a section in the middle. She held the book open with one hand, smoothing his hair back from his forehead with the other.

"'Last night I dreamt I went to Manderlay again…"

***

The rest of the day passed in a blur for Damon. They never went to class, but instead stayed out under the tree until twilight came, and the light slowly began to abandon them to darkness. Damon simply lay under the tree with Rosie, his head in her lap as she kept soothing his anxiety away with her caresses and the sound of her voice reading her beloved book. It seemed like Heaven to him to simply lay like that with her. He should have been bored. But he wasn't. It seemed as though the whole world faded out and they were the only two on the planet.

He could tell when she was beginning to have difficulty seeing the words by the way she stuttered them and squinted at the page. He also began to notice that she occasionally shivered with the cold, though she never uttered a single complaint. It was with great reluctance that he finally pulled the book gently from her hand and looked up at her from where his head lay on her lap. He grinned when he realized that her image was upside down. His grin widened when she smiled back.

"You're not going home tonight," he said.

"Oh, I'm not, am I?" she said, lifting an eyebrow doubtfully. Her heart didn't even skip a beat at his ominous statement. After everything, the pace of her heart didn't even quicken a little. It lifted Damon's spirits a little to know that she wasn't afraid.

"No, you're not."

"Then, pray, where am I going to sleep tonight, good sir?" she said smoothly, teasing him.

"At Castle Salvatore, of course, my lady," Damon said charmingly, slipping into the role of courtly gentleman like into an old, well-worn glove.

"I fear my father will protest, sir," Rosie said sadly.

"Doth the _lady_ protest?" Damon asked seriously, holding her gaze steadily.

"Damon-" Rose began, stopping when Damon wound his hand into her wild mane of hair. It caught the sun just right, giving off hints of gold and copper, and myriad other colors. He felt mesmerized by the uncommon loveliness of it.

She closed her eyes and reveled in the feel of his touch, soft and gentle and anything but threatening. Even in the near dark, Damon could see color rising to her cheeks.

"No, good sir," she said quietly, keeping their game going. "No, the lady doth not protest at all."

The words were an absolute surrender, and Damon recognized them as such. She had left herself completely in his hands to do with as he pleased, trusted him absolutely. And he hadn't Compelled her once. He should've been thrilled. It had been exactly what he had wanted from the very beginning, wasn't it? To have her absolute surrender? But in the wake of her trust, all he could feel was an overwhelming sense of humility. He couldn't understand why, only that it was how he felt. Damon Salvatore, humbled by no man nor beast, had been humbled by a girl's trust. And that trust to him was sweeter and more reviving than any blood he had ever had. He felt like a man long starved after having eaten a great feast: _satisfied_. Utterly and completely _satisfied_.


	12. You Have A Dirty Mind

_**Dance With The Devil **_

_**Chapter Twelve: "You Have A Dirty Mind."**_

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**A/N: This chapter is once again dedicated to Yifrodit for her amazing banners and all her wonderful support. You're awesome Yif! **

**Thanks to all my beautiful reviewers. I love you! **

**I own nothing but the plot and OCs. **

_**~ Jane McB.**_

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The drive home was comfortable and quiet. Rose slept on Damon's shoulder the whole way and he drove slowly just to keep her there with him like that a little longer. She was so very warm, and her heat seemed to travel from the point of contact all the way to his bone marrow. She made _him_ warm, and the feeling was so delicious that when he pulled up in front of his house he didn't wake her. Instead he scooped her up into his arms, using the Powers to unlock and open the door.

Damon walked inside, instantly aware of Stephan's awaiting presence – from the library, if his nose was right. The door to it was cracked and light could be seen from inside. The last thing Damon wanted was grief from his younger brother but at the moment escaping just wasn't an option, so with a sigh, he gently closed the front door with his foot, careful to not wake the young woman in his arms with noise or movement.

"Damon?" Stephan called, his form appearing as the door to the library opened further.

"_Shh!_ Can't you see she's sleeping?" Damon hissed at him in irritation. Rosie sighed in her sleep and snuggled closer to him, her hand grasping the lapel of his black leather jacket. Damon just watched her for a moment, swallowing thickly. If he had a heartbeat the world would've been able to hear it racing. He looked back up at Stephan who was staring at him blankly.

"You brought her here." It wasn't a question. It was a statement of disbelief.

"Thank you, Mr. Obvious," Damon whispered irately. "Now if you'll excuse me I have to get her into bed."

A look of horror crossed Stephan's face, and Damon glowered at him for it.

"That is _not_ what I meant, and you have a dirty mind."

With that, Damon quickly made his way upstairs to his room. Once he was faced with the door he needed he tried using the Powers to open it. Nothing. The door didn't open. Damon gritted his teeth in frustration. He needed to feed. _Badly_. He hadn't even realized how hungry he was until now but having realized, having Rosie in his arms was becoming more and more problematic.

"_Stephan!_" he whispered urgently. "_Ste-phan!_"

He saw his younger brother coming up the stairs when Rosie leaned over and fumbled for the door handle, her eyes still closed. She caught hold of it and swiftly twisted it, pushing the door open. After that, she simply curled into him again, her hand returning to its place on the lapel of his jacket. Damon saw Stephan give him a look out of the corner of his eye but he was too focused on Rosie to give it any notice. He walked into the room and shut the door behind him, leaving his brother on the stairs without so much as a 'thank you for coming to save my ass.'

"How long have you been awake?" he asked, looking down at her with a raised eyebrow, his inhuman sight allowing him to see her in the pitch black of the lightless room.

"Mmmm," she said, a small smile of contentment lifting the corners of her lips.

"Thank you, that's _very_ helpful," Damon said dryly, though he couldn't hide the amusement in his voice.

Rosie moved her hand from the lapel onto his neck and then into his hair, the dark locks curling around her fingers. She nuzzled into his neck, and for a moment he couldn't breathe.

"Are you going to stand there all night?" she asked with a sigh. "You must be getting tired. I must be rather heavy for you by now."

If Damon could've spared the breath for it he would've laughed at the thought of her tiny, underweight frame being too heavy for him. If he didn't know better he would've thought that she hadn't eaten in months.

As it was he simply moved toward the bed and pulled the covers back by kicking them with his foot. He laid her on the bed and began pulling his jacket off.

"No," she said tiredly.

His eyes snapped to her face, his jacket half hanging off of him, to see that her eyes were open a little and she was looking at him with understanding.

"You need to go feed," she continued. "You're hungry, I can tell. You're eyes are darker. They always get darker when you're hungry."

He simply looked at her, now remembering that she knew what he was. How could she be so calm? How could she bear to be held in his arms, to curl up against him, knowing what he was? He wanted to ask her how she knew, but he was afraid of the answer. He was afraid of what had happened to her. Had she been attacked? Hurt? Violated? _No_, he thought. _I won't think of that. I can't._

Rosie seemed to understand his thoughts. He could see it in the sympathy that her eyes held for him. She rose from the bed and pulled his jacket back up his shoulders, smoothing the lapels down.

"I'm okay," she said, meeting his eyes with a soft look in her own. "I'm safe. Go hunt. I'll still be here when you get back."

Damon gripped her shoulders, looking her in the eyes with desperation.

"You're not going back, Rosie," he said, his words somewhere between a plea and a command. "Not tonight, not tomorrow, not _ever_. Do you understand? You live _here_ now."

A smile lit up her face and tears misted her eyes, confusing Damon for a moment.

"I know," she almost whispered, wrapping her arms around him in a desperate embrace. "I know."

Without thought he wrapped his arms around her as well, closing his eyes and nuzzling her hair. He breathed in and that familiar smell hit him. Cheap lavender shampoo and cinnamon, with just a touch of fabric softener from her clothes. He stroked her hair, relishing the feel of it beneath his fingers.

"You'll be safe here," he whispered in her ear, delighting in the shiver he caused her. "Stephan's downstairs if you need anything, but don't tell him you know about… me. He'll ask too many questions and he's already too damn nosy as it is."

He could feel Rosie's lips curl into an amused smile as she wound her fingers through his hair again. She seemed to like that, the feel of his silky hair twining around her delicate, little fingers. He laid her back on the bed, covering her with his heavy blanket. He brushed a strand of her wild red hair out of her face, caressing her cheek as he did so.

"Go to sleep," he said, closing her eyes with the pads of his fingers. "I'll be back before you know it."

With that, Damon walked to the window and opened the doors that led out onto the balcony, but he stopped short of leaving. He looked back at Rosie who still had her eyes closed obediently, and without being able to help himself he walked over to her and bent down, pressing a chaste kiss to her forehead. She didn't open her eyes but even in the dark room he could still see her smile.

And then he was gone.

***

Once Rose was sure that Damon was gone she opened her eyes and looked around to make sure he wasn't anywhere near. She quickly threw the covers off, grateful that he had forgotten to remove her shoes when he put her in the bed. She looked briefly around the room, hardly able to see in the dark surrounding her.

"Damn it, I need a _light!_" she said in frustration. The moment the last word left her mouth a candle ignited on Damon's old desk. She gasped and stepped back, nearly tripping over her feet as she did. She swallowed thickly, finding she could hardly breathe.

"That- That's not _possible_…" she whispered in disbelief.

She shook herself out of her daze and forced herself to approach the desk. Taking a sheet of paper and a pen from one of the drawers, Rose began writing a note for Damon in case he got back before her.

She had something she had to do…


	13. Fear

_**Dance With The Devil **_

_**Chapter Thirteen: "Fear."**_

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**A/N: Thanks to uNiKue and Yifrodit for their awesome reviews. If I could mention all my other lovely fans I would, but you know I'm thinking about you! Love ya! **

**I own nothing but the plot and OCs. **

**I'm leaving you hanging on this one. Don't say I didn't warn you. **

_**~ Jane McB.**_

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It hadn't taken Rose very long to get to the Cresswell place after she had climbed down a drainpipe near Damon's balcony. She now crept along the back of her father's house, the darkness cloaking her from the view of any nosy neighbors that might be peeking out their blinds. She still couldn't believe that it was even possible for her to escape living there anymore. It seemed too good to be true. Damon would change his mind and she would be back living here, facing her father's wrath every day again. But she wanted to believe it. She wanted to believe that for once in her life _someone_ would come through for her. So what if Damon was a vampire? Did it really matter as long as he genuinely cared? Then again, her experience with vampires told her to be careful who she put her trust in. They never seemed to keep their promises.

Rose gently twisted the back door's handle and pulled the door open, wincing when it creaking with years of rust built up. Releasing a breath she didn't even know she'd been holding she entered the old house, leaving her in a moonlit kitchen with peeling linoleum floors and lopsided cabinets. She tiptoed to the door leading into the living room, opening it a crack to peek out. Her father's body lay sprawled out on the couch, the light from the muted television glowing on him eerily, making him look like a corpse rather than a sleeping man with a beer bottle loosely held in his hand. To Rose's relief though she heard his soft snores and knew that it would be a while until he woke up.

With a sigh she closed the door, walking across the kitchen and up the servants' staircase until she reached her own little room. She went directly to her closet and pulled out an old backpack, throwing her few things in it as quickly as she could. A pair of old sneakers that had a hole in the sole. A photograph of her mother holding Rose in her lap on her sixth birthday. A few other old keepsakes were put in as well, along with the few clothes she had.

Finally, she got on her knees in front of the closet and pulled a loose board out, placing it gently on the floor beside her, very careful not to let it make any noise. There was old straw in a cavity the board had been covering. Rose brushed it aside to reveal an old leather-bound diary, a gold clasp holding it closed. She gently lifted it out and placed it in the backpack. Beneath the diary was a large packet of letters bound with a crimson ribbon. Rose picked them up, tenderly running her fingers over the ribbon. She held them close to her face and inhaled the distinctly feminine scent of her mother's perfume. She pressed a loving kiss to the old paper and ribbon, a single tear sliding down her cheek.

Brushing it away she put the letters in the backpack, rose from her place on the floor, not even bothering to put the floor board back. She wouldn't be coming back here so it wasn't really necessary to keep her hiding place a secret any longer. Even if Damon changed his mind and didn't want her to live at the Salvatore place, she wouldn't go back. She couldn't. She would live on the streets before coming back here and living in constant fear under her father's tyranny. She loved her father, even through everything he'd done to her, but she couldn't live like this anymore. _I'll leave him a note_, she decided on her way down the stairs. _I'll tell him that way._ _I can't just leave and not say goodbye. Not after the way mom left…_

She walked into the kitchen and made her way to the counter on the far side of the room near the phone that hung on the wall. She always kept a notepad there for when she made the grocery lists. She reached into it and pulled out the notepad and a pencil, jotting down a quick explanation.

Her gut clenched and she froze, her pen stilled on the paper mid-word. Something was wrong. The house was too still, too quiet. Her heart began to beat faster, and she realized that her father was standing behind her, even before he flicked the light switch on.

"You're late," he slurred menacingly.

She stopped breathing, and her body prepared itself for the first blow.

***

It was good; better than Damon had expected the deer's blood to taste. Then again, he hadn't fed in far too long. Any blood would've tasted good to him at that moment. He drank as much as he could stomach so he wouldn't have to feed for a while. He wanted to be able to stay with Rose as long as possible, even if only to watch over her while she slept. He didn't like leaving her alone, even if his brother was in the house – though he didn't find that a particularly comforting thought. Damon dropped the dead deer at his feet, growling at the thought of the damage his brother might be doing to his relationship with Rosie while he lingered in the forest, stuffing his face. Anger coursed through him toward his brother, unjustified though it may have been. He had nothing to found his suspicions on – unless one counted the time Stephan betrayed him and Katherine, destroying their lives and their happiness in one fell swoop.

Damon began to run then, tearing through the forest with inhuman speed. He had no other thought than getting back to Rosie. He was inside the Salvatore foyer before any normal human could've blinked an eye. He ran upstairs, taking two steps at a time and wrenching his bedroom door open. Nothing. No breathing in the still darkness. Smoke? Why did he smell smoke?

Damon walked in, drawn toward the out of place smell. The candle on his desk had recently been lit. Damon opened a drawer and saw that the book of matches he kept in it was completely untouched. _Odd_, he thought. A glimpse of white caught his eye and he looked down. A sheet of paper lay on his desk, a short note written in a delicate, feminine hand on it.

_Damon, _

_I have to go get something from my father's house. If you get back before me, I'm sorry for breaking my promise but it's something I just had to have tonight. It's vitally important to me and I can't risk losing it. Please understand and forgive me. _

_I'll be back soon. Please wait here for me. His house isn't far from here and my task won't take me long. _

_And Damon, when you said I wasn't going back to him ever again, if you change your mind I'll understand. I know that people sometimes say things in the heat of the moment that they regret later. If you have thought better about it we can talk it over when I get back. _

_- Rose_

In that moment when he finished her letter sheer terror overwhelmed him. He couldn't move, he couldn't even breathe. He just stood there, staring dumbly at the words on the paper before him. He was now forced to come face to face with a fact that he had refused to acknowledge before, even though he had known it to his very soul: Rose's father beat her. He beat her and now she had gone back into danger – into possibly _mortal_ danger, and now he couldn't even move. _Why_ couldn't he _move?_

"Damon?" Stephan's voice called from the open doorway. Out of the corner of his eye Damon saw Stephan step into the room, looking around for Rosie. _His_ Rosie, and he'd be damned before anyone hurt her!

Damon dropped the letter on the desk and opened the balcony door, nearly ripping them off in his hurry to get to Rosie. He leapt off the balcony and tore through down the road, not caring who saw him.

***

Stephan stood in Damon's room, watching the curtains billow in the wind after his brother's hasty exit. He snatched the note off the floor from where Damon had dropped it and his eyes quickly scanned the text.

"Damn it," he muttered, running out of the room and down the stairs. He grabbed his keys and jacket off the entry table, and raced out to his car. He started it with lightning speed and tore out of the driveway, his tires screeching on the pavement.

Stephan felt real fear for Rose, though it wasn't because of what he thought his brother might do. No, the expression in Damon's eyes wasn't one of anger. It was one of fear, and that made Stephan a hundred times more terrified for the young girl who had so captured his brother's attention. Because Damon wasn't afraid of anything.


	14. Dance With The Devil

_**Dance With The Devil **_

_**Chapter Fourteen: "Dance With The Devil."**_

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**A/N: Here's an extra long chapter for you my beautiful readers. Be patient. It's another cliffy – sort of. **

**Lyrics are Dance With The Devil by Breaking Benjamin. **

_**~ Jane McB.**_

_**

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**_

_Here I stand, helpless and left for dead.__  
__Close your eyes, so many days go by.__  
__Easy to find what's wrong, harder to find what's right.__  
__I believe in you, I can show you that I can see right through all your empty lies.__  
__I won't stay long, in this world so wrong.__  
_

_[Chorus:]__  
__Say goodbye, as we dance with the devil tonight.__  
__Don't you dare look at him in the eye, as we dance with the devil tonight?__  
_

_Trembling, crawling across my skin.__  
__Feeling your cold dead eyes, stealing the life of mine.__  
__I believe in you, I can show you that I can see right through all your empty lies.__  
__I won't last long, in this world so wrong.__  
_

_[Chorus]__  
_

_Hold on. Hold on.__  
__[Chorus]__  
_

_Hold on. Hold on.__  
__Goodbye._

* * *

Rose's heart pounded in her chest as she waited for her father to come around the counter and beat her within an inch of her life. But he didn't… yet.

"Turn around," he demanded, his voice less slurred now that he was more awake. He wasn't quite as drunk as Rose had expected and she didn't know whether that was a good thing or a bad one at this point. Nonetheless, she obeyed him and turned slowly around, the light bulb above them flickering.

"Where the fuck have you been?" he snapped. His eye caught sight of the backpack and a dead calm came over him. It was a thousand times more terrifying than his fury. "You think you're leaving? Just like your mother, you little bitch…"

He was around the counter faster than she had thought would be possible for him in his drunken state, his clenched fist colliding with her cheek as he backhanded her across her face. Her head snapped to the side with the force of the blow and she fell backwards, the back of her head hitting the counter as she fell. The world spun around her and for a blissful moment she felt nothing. But it couldn't last and soon she felt the hot throbbing all through her head, and she could feel something wet and warm on the back of her head, spreading over her hair and back. It was numbly that she realized she was bleeding profusely. _He's going to kill me_, she thought with detached coldness. The thought stirred up memories of the past few days in her mind, all of them revolving around Damon. She could see his dark eyes staring back at her, mirth and mischievousness teasing a smile onto her face. _Damon…_

She suddenly was jerked back into reality by a sharp pain in her stomach. Her father stood above her, kicking her with his leather boots. How long had he been kicking her? Why had she not noticed before? _Because of Damon_, she thought. _I was thinking about Damon_. Strength and determination blocked out everything else and she tried to rise. She had to live, for Damon. She had to see him again. She tried to hit her father's leg, push it away, but a hard kick to the face that made her head hit the peeling linoleum that was beginning to pool with blood and bounce back up with the force of the hit forced her to stop fighting.

And then the kicking stopped, and Damon was standing above her.

"Damon," she whispered, a smile tugging at her lips. She was safe now. Damon would save her. "Damon…"

And her world went dark.

***

_Damon_, he heard in his mind. _Damon…_ He felt driven mad by it, running faster than he had ever run before. She was in pain. She was suffering. He had to get to her, save her. He was there outside her house before he knew it, stopping to listen and smell for Rosie. It didn't take long to find what he was looking for.

The moment Damon smelled Rosie's scent in the driveway and heard the noises inside the house it was all over for him; no shred of control was left. His sanity fled from him and he ran inside like a madman, ripping the door off in his fury. He hadn't known what animal fury meant until the moment when he saw Rosie – _his_ Rosie, lying on the floor, her father kicking her like the sick son of a bitch he was. Before he knew what was happening he had thrown Cresswell into a wall and was standing over him like the prowler he was. He dragged him from the floor, his mind numb as he hit the man so hard that his head nearly detached from his neck. Another well placed punch to the gut and the man was crumpled on the floor like a ragdoll, unconscious at the first hit.

The idea of sinking his teeth into the man didn't even cross his mind. It wasn't satisfying enough. He wanted to take this man's life one hit at a time, beat him within an inch of his life, make him _beg_ to die. But he didn't have enough control for even that. Damon got on his hands and knees and began hitting Rosie's father, each hit bringing the man closer and closer to death. He felt hands grabbing him, trying to pull him back, but he fought like a man gone mad, only seeing the victim before him. That was all he cared about at that moment.

Those arms kept at him though, trying to pull him away. And someone was talking too, like an annoying little fly that kept buzzing around his head.

"Rose… hurt," Damon heard through the fog his madness had surrounded him in.

He stilled and allowed the hands to pull him away, before turning quickly and using the Powers to run to Rosie's side. There was so much blood. It made him sick to know that it was hers, his beautiful Rosie's precious blood, spilt out onto the kitchen floor like it meant nothing.

"Rosie," he whispered, taking her into his arms. She was alive, just barely hanging on by a shred of will left in her. He brushed her wild, blood-soaked hair out of her eyes, and he wanted to cry. He bit his wrist and put it to her mouth, but she wouldn't swallow it and he didn't know how to make her drink the blood without choking her.

"Hospital," he heard the voice say. _Stephan?_ He looked to his left to see his brother kneeling beside him. "_We need to get her to the hospital_," Stephan said to him slowly, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Damon nodded his head numbly, rising slowly with Rosie in his arms. He was led by Stephan out of the house, never looking up from Rosie's face. He couldn't stop looking at her, hating himself for not being there for her, for giving into his bloodlust and leaving her defenseless. And now she could die thinking that he had changed his mind about her living with him. It was almost too much for him to bear.

He got in the back seat of Stephan's car with her and Stephan shut the door for him. He held her while his brother drove to the Emergency Room at St. Paul's hospital, and the moment that Stephan opened the door Damon was running for the ER doors, Rosie gently cradled in his arms like a broken doll.

"I need some help here!" Damon shouted as he burst into the ER. Immediately he was swarmed with nurses and doctors asking him questions, pulling him toward a gurney.

"What's her name?" a doctor asked him, helping Damon put Rosie onto the gurney.

"Rose Cresswell."

"How do you know her?"

"I'm her boyfriend."

"How did she get like this?"

"I was going to visit her when I found her by the side of the road. I don't know what happened exactly. Why the hell are you asking me question? You should be fixing her, not interrogating me!" Damon shouted fiercely at the doctor.

"Sir, we need to know what happened to her so that we know how to help her. _Anything_ you know about her would be helpful," the doctor said soothingly as he started jogging down the hall to the ICU, Damon keeping pace easily. Damon was about to retort when he felt the gentle, insistent pressure of his brother's hand squeezing his shoulder. Stephan gave him a look that calmed him a little, but he still felt desperate. The doctor was heading toward a set of double doors that said 'Surgery' on them when he turned to Damon.

"I'm sorry but you can't go any further," the doctor said, his hands facing Damon, palm up in a peacemaking sort of gesture. He looked a little afraid of Damon. "A nurse will take you to the waiting room, and as soon as we know anything we'll tell you."

The doctor turned and quickly took Rosie through the double doors with several nurses at his side. Damon started to go after them but a hand grasping his arm made him halt abruptly. He turned to see his brother staring at him with sympathy and understanding in his eyes. He should've felt angry with Stephan. He was _always_ angry at Stephan. At any other time he would've jerked his younger brother's arm away with more force than needed, but right then he needed him. The thought didn't make him sick like it should've. Irate, but not actually sick. The truth was that he knew he needed Stephan to keep him from ripping apart every nurse and doctor that came within ten feet of him, to keep him from doing something stupid that would cause more harm than good to Rosie. He needed his brother to keep his head cool. He hated it, but it was how it had to be.

He actually _needed_ his brother. Alright, _now_ it was beginning to make him sick.


	15. No Life Without Death

_**Dance With The Devil **_

_**Chapter Fifteen: "No Life Without Death."

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**_

**A/N: I am so sorry for the long wait. I've been so busy with babysitting my neighbor's kid that I just haven't had time to write. Sorry. Please don't hate me…**

_**~ Jane McB.

* * *

**_

The waiting was torturous for Damon. It had been over three hours since Rosie had gone into surgery and no one had given him any news. Stephan seemed to be the only thing keeping from losing it. When the waiting got especially bad Stephan would put a comforting hand on his shoulder and it helped him deal with the not knowing. He never thought he would find so much comfort from the brother he had hated for so long. But even with his brother by his side the constant waiting finally got to Damon.

"I can't do this," Damon said, rising from his seat swiftly.

"Damon-" Stephan began.

"I can't just sit here while she's in Intensive Care!" Damon shouted. "Not while _he's_ still-"

Stephan's hand was over Damon's mouth before he knew what was happening. He shook it off though and began walking down the hall swiftly. His brother kept pace with him easily.

"Damon, what are you going to do?" Stephan demanded. Damon ignored him, and kept walking. Stephan grabbed his arm and swung him around to look in his eyes.

"Are you going to kill him?" Stephan asked quietly, almost whispering so no one else could hear.

"You can't stop me, Stephan, Even like this I'm still-" Damon stopped when his younger brother shoved a small item into his hand. He looked down and saw that it was a little black lighter. Damon looked up in confusion.

"Make it look like an accident," Stephan said quietly. "Make sure they can't trace it back to you or her." Damon looked into his brother's eyes, nearly speechless at Stephan's support.

"_Why?_" Damon asked. "Why would you help me?"

"If it was Elena," Stephan said, almost unable to continue at the thought, "I know what I would do."

"It- It isn't like that with me and Rosie. I-"

The look on Stephan's face silenced Damon. It was no use trying to convince his brother that he was still in love with Katherine, regardless of his attraction to Rosie, and he certainly didn't have time.

"I'll look after her while you're gone," Stephan said.

"Thank you," Damon said, truly meaning the words. "_Thank you_."

Damon turned and walked away, not even looking back. He had some trash that needed incinerating.

***

Mike Cresswell hadn't moved since Damon had taken Rosie to the hospital hours earlier. He was barely alive. Damon thought that it was about time to finish the job. He wanted to do it slowly, savor it, but he couldn't. Rosie would need him to be there when she woke up. _He_ needed to be there when she woke up, for his own sake.

Damon walked further into the kitchen and started going to through the cabinet until he found what he was looking for: a half-full bottle of Jack Daniels. He walked back over to the still body of Michael Cresswell and held the bottle over the floor next to the unconscious man before letting it drop. The bottle shattered into a thousand pieces and the amber liquid spilled onto the floor and splattered on Cresswell's body. He grabbed a piece of paper off of the counter and pulled the lighter out of his jacket pocket. He clicked the lighter and a flame danced at the top of it. He held the piece of paper up, but he didn't light it just yet, because something had caught his eye, a reflection in the frame of a picture. He turned around and saw the corner of a backpack on the floor. He released the button of the lighter and the flame extinguished. He strode over to the backpack and picked it up, laying it on the counter. He opened it up and quickly deduced that the things belonged to Rosie. He highly doubted her father wore size six tennis shoes. Apparently she had had a chance to gather her things before her father nearly… Before Damon had found her. It was good too, he supposed. Less time wasted on looking through this wreck for her things, having to guess at what might be important to her.

He zipped the backpack up again and slung it over his shoulder. He walked back over to Cresswell, the peeling laminate squeaking beneath his weight. Damon took a good look around at the place that had only twenty-four hours ago been Rosie's home. There was mold in the walls, he could smell it. When he dug through the cabinet the only thing that he found in them that could be considered food was the dead rat with maggots feeding off its carcass, and although that may have been a delicacy in some countries it wasn't something he'd let Rosie touch with a ten foot pole. How often did she really eat here? It was hardly a wonder to him that she was so thin anymore. It was more a wonder that she was even alive, between the beatings and the starvation. The picture that had reflected the backpack was not a picture of family but an old sampler. It looked like a child's handiwork, the lines uneven and crooked. It read:

"_There can be no courage without fear, _

_No strength without weakness, _

_No success without failure, _

_No honor without lies, _

_No trust without betrayal, _

_No life without death." _

The words reminded Damon so much of Rosie. They seemed her verbal embodiment, her very soul on a scrap of cloth in a cheap wooden frame. He plucked it from the wall and placed it gently in the backpack before turning back to Cresswell. He lit up the piece of paper and dropped it, watching it float down onto the body before him. The flames ignited on the body and spread like wildfire in a field of dry wheat. Damon walked away, leaving the house and all things to do with it behind him, burning, burning, all turning to ash. He just hoped that Rosie could leave everything behind as well.


	16. Doctor's Orders Be Damned

_**Dance With The Devil **_

_**Chapter Sixteen: "Doctor's Orders Be Damned."

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**A/N: I am so sorry for the long wait. I've been so busy with babysitting my neighbor's kid that I just haven't had time to write. Sorry. Please don't hate me… Review if you don't hate me! **

_**~ Jane McB.

* * *

**_

Damon strode into the hospital, Rosie's backpack slung over her shoulder. Everyone in his path dashed out of the way after a single look at his face. There was something very dark in his features that made even the men wary of Damon. He looked dangerous, volatile, perhaps even a little mad. Maybe he was. He didn't really care at the moment. All he cared about was seeing Rosie safe and alive again, the way she would have been if he hadn't been so damned selfish. He shouldn't have denied what he knew was happening to her just for the sake of his peace of mind. He'd never forgive himself if she didn't live. He didn't know if he could survive her loss. Not after Katherine…

It seemed like ages before he finally made his way into the waiting room, though with everyone jumping out of his way it was more like a few minutes. Seeing Stephan was a relief, a fact that was far less disturbing to him than it should have been. Perhaps it was due to mental fatigue. Yeah, that was it. Pure exhaustion…

"Damon," Stephan said, a relieved smile on his lips. Okay, it was a given that Damon was exhausted but what was Stephan's excuse?

"What is it?" Damon asked quickly. "Is it good news?"

"Yeah," Stephan said. "She's out of surgery and the doctor said she's going to be just fine."

A wave of dizziness overcame Damon and he collapsed in a nearby chair. She was going to be alright! He hid his face in his hands and even though he tried to force them back tears of relief escaped from between his fingers. A choked sob escaped him and he felt a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"I just-" Damon began, sniffing sharply and wiping the tears from his face with the back of his hand. "After Katherine-"

"It's okay," Stephan said softly, squeezing his brother's shoulder. "I get it."

Damon nodded his head gratefully, taking a shaky breath. He ran a hand through his hair and stood abruptly.

"I want to see her," he said. "What room is she in?"

"Damon, they're not letting anyone in to see her right now," Stephan said. "She's weak and needs a hell of a lot of rest before she's going to be up to seeing anybody, and after what she's been through it'll be a while."

"She won't even know I'm there," Damon said.

"Damon-"

"_Please_, Stephan," the dark-haired young man pleaded. "I _need_ to see her. I _have_ to."

Stephan's eyes widened in shock though not for the first time that night. He debated for a long moment before meeting his brother's eyes again.

"Room three-seventeen," Stephan said with a resigned sigh. "But don't let anyone see you."

Damon gave his brother a quick smirk before dashing off to the nearest window. A few moments later he had scaled the hospital walls and had opened a window on the third floor. An old man was sleeping in one of the hospital beds, snoring obscenely. Damon's face distorted into a wry expression of disgust as he made his way to the other side of the room toward the door that led into the hall. He opened it a crack and peeked out. Nurses. They were buzzing around all over the place. The whole damn place seemed infested with them.

Damon huffed in irritation and shut the door quietly. A small dinging noise caught his attention. It was the dialysis machine hooked up to the old man who was still snoring infuriatingly. Damon's ill will toward the old man faded as an idea formed in his mind. A heart monitor was also hooked up to the old man. Damon crept closer to the hospital bed and unhooked both the heart monitor and dialysis machines, and he quickly dashed into the bathroom. In seconds it seemed as though every nurse in the hospital was by the man's bedside, panicking and squawking like a herd of hens when a fox was on the loose. It provided the perfect opportunity for Damon to slip out into the hall and that was exactly what he did.

On tiptoe he ran through the hall, searching eagerly for the right room. _Three-twelve, three-thirteen, three-fourteen, fifteen, sixteen_… _There! Three-seventeen._ Damon pressed his ear against the door and heard the comforting softness of her heartbeat inside. He could even smell her. He turned the door handle softly, careful to be as silent as was vampirically possible. He barely breathed as he entered the room. He saw the foot of the bed first, and then as he entered further he saw her form covered in a thin blanket. He used the Powers to shut and lock the door behind him as he walked to the side of her bed. A chair was already by her bedside, as though her nurses had known she would soon have a visitor. He didn't sit in it though, not at first. Instead he stood by her, looking down on her face.

He almost began crying again at the sight of her disfigured features. It seemed that there wasn't any part of her that wasn't swollen, broken and bruised. And yet he would have known her anywhere. Even if he had been blind he would have known her. Even unconscious she had such a powerful presence that it was hard to believe that to most everyone else she passed for invisible.

Her hair was still as wild as ever and still somewhat matted with blood. He brushed a strand of it out of her face, continuing his caress all the way down her jaw, his touch so light that it was as though he wasn't touching her at all. She stirred in her sleep, leaning into Damon's hand with a contented smile.

"Damon," she whispered with a small sigh. "Damon…"

"I'm here," he whispered back. "And I'm not going anywhere."

Damon took off her backpack and placed it under the bedside table before removing his jacket and placing it gently over Rosie, tucking it lightly beneath her chin. She was so tiny that it covered her almost to her little fairy-like feet. He smiled and pulled the chair closer until it actually touched the bed and was completely facing her. He sat down in the chair and slumped in it until he was comfortable. It would be a long night and he had no intention of going anywhere, doctor's orders be damned.


	17. Heartbeat

_**Dance With The Devil **_

_**Chapter Seventeen: "Hearbeat."**_

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**A/N: I am so extremely sorry for the long wait! I've been really sick with the flu. Everyone's got it around here. Here's a longer chapter to make up for making you wait. I hope you enjoy! **

_**~ Jane McB.**_

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**_

The buzz about Mike Cresswell's death didn't last very long. No one really cared that much; it was as sure as hell that no one missed him, and Rosie had barely been mentioned in the local papers. It was about a week before the news of it died down almost completely, with the exception of a whisper here and there.

Unfortunately, not everyone could move on so easily.

It had been weeks since the incident with her father and Rosie was still unconscious. The doctors were quickly becoming worried though they tried to ease Damon's concern by saying it was natural for her to be in a temporary coma after everything she'd been through; she needed time to recover, they said. But it didn't help, not really. He hadn't been this sick inside since the night he'd lost Katherine. He felt as though he was in some sort of nightmare, and no matter how hard he tried he couldn't wake himself up.

He never left Rosie's side during those long weeks except the few times that Stephan had insisted he go feed while he watched over her for him. Even then he could hardly make himself go, and then he fed as quickly as possible. Damon was completely relentless in his vigil by Rosie's bedside.

There had been a few times when she spoke his name during the last few weeks and he refused to be away should she call for him or wake up. It came to the point that Stephan had to sneak blood in to him, and Damon would go into the bathroom so that if Rosie woke up she wouldn't see him like that.

The doctors and nurses didn't know what to do with him, though nearly every female in the hospital was gossiping about how romantic it all was. Romantic! He'd like to see them almost lose the best thing that had ever happened to them and then call it romantic!

And Rosie was the best thing that had ever happened to him. Except Katherine. Katherine was the best thing that had ever happened to him, though he was having more and more trouble reminding himself of that these days. Sometimes he when he was hunting he would chant, "I love _Katherine_, not Rosie," to himself as a reminder. Heaven knew it was a reminder he desperately needed. He was trying so hard to hold onto the Katherine he remembered, the sweet, beautiful Katherine that was everything he'd ever dreamed of. But now, her beauty had begun to wane, and her once beloved smiles seemed less pure in their meaning. She seemed less innocent and more devious. When he thought of her eyes they were no longer sparkling with love and amusement, but mischief and plotting. He despised himself for his disloyalty, but how could he help it? He couldn't control his thoughts and memories any more than he could make the sun take the place of the moon.

All was turmoil for him now, and a war was raging in his heart over Katherine and Rosie. Darling Rosie! Now _she_ was innocent! Sweet, kind, graceful, meek, and yet she had more fire in a glimmer in her eye than a falling star had in its entire being. How could a memory that was quickly becoming bitter compare with that?

***

The doctors were becoming unnerved, and Damon couldn't really blame them. It had been six weeks and Rosie still remained unconscious. But that wasn't what was unnerving them all. It was the bruises, the scars, the broken ribs and arm, and all Rosie's other wounds. They were gone. What should've taken months, possibly even years to heal, was gone after six weeks without so much as a trace. There wasn't even a scratch.

One night Damon went to sleep by her bedside as he always did, holding her bruised hand in his. The next morning when he woke up, she lay there as though she had been merely sleeping for the last six weeks, not a single trace of violence that had nearly ended her life. He couldn't understand it; no one could, Stephan least of all. He seemed so suspicious, but Damon couldn't have cared less how it had happened. She was better, and some part of him told him that she'd be waking up soon.

Damon spent a good deal of time away after that, forcing Stephan to stay in his stead. He found a lot to occupy him elsewhere all of a sudden.

But he was there when Rosie woke up.

***

Like most days that week, the seventh week that Rosie had been unconscious, Damon was away. He could tell that his brother was getting irritable about his absence, perhaps even getting suspicious that Damon was getting tired of looking after her. He couldn't have been more wrong.

But Damon found that, even though his brother had been there for him when he thought for sure he would leave him high and dry, he wasn't ready to explain everything to him just yet.

It was difficult for Damon to be away from Rosie. It felt almost unnatural after all the time he'd spent with her. He'd spent so many hours reading aloud to her, and even more often, just sitting by her bedside holding her hand.

He was at the Salvatore place, making the bed oddly enough, when a sudden sense of urgency overtook him.

_He had to get back to Rosie. _

At that moment, nothing in the world seemed real but those words.

_He had to get back to Rosie._

He ran all the way, not caring who saw him – not caring about anything except getting back to Rosie. It was the only thing that made sense anymore.

He ran like a man gone mad, crashing through the hospital doors nearest her room, running up every flight of stairs because the elevator was too slow.

He burst through the door of her tiny hospital room, pushing Stephan and a nurse out of the way to kneel by her bedside.

"Damon! What's-" Stephan began, only to be cut off by the outraged doctor.

"Mr. Salvatore, really! I must _insist_ that you remove yourself from my patient at once! If you don't I'll be forced to call security to-"

"Rosie," Damon said taking hold of her limp hand, ignoring both his brother and the irate doctor. "Rosie, can you hear me?"

"Mr. Salvatore," the doctor said, his tone much more soft and sympathetic. "Ms. Cresswell is still in a coma. There has been no sign of any change or additional brain activity since you were here last-"

A loud beep on Rosie's brain monitor caught both Stephan's and the doctor's attention, though Damon's remained completely on Rosie.

"Rosie, wake up," Damon said brushing her wild hair aside to kiss her pale forehead. "I know you can hear me. Wake up…"

As if on command, Rosie's eyelids began to flutter. The doctor tried to get closer but Stephan wisely held the plump man back. He knew what his brother was capable of, and at that moment anything or anyone that got in between Rose Cresswell and Damon Salvatore was as good as dead.

Rosie's eyes finally opened completely, settling on Damon. They simply stared into one another's eyes, oblivious to the other two people in the room watching their every move.

Everything was still for a long moment, as though a spell lingered on them all. It was broken though when a soft smile pulled up the corners of Rosie's lips and she reached out a hand to brush Damon's cheek. He closed his eyes and leaned into it, kissing the palm. He was almost panting in relief.

"I knew you would come," she said softly. "When I sent for you, I _knew_ you would come."

A single tear leaked from her eye and trailed down her cheek. Damon caught it with his thumb and brushed it away. None of it made sense but he couldn't bring himself to care.

He stood up and pulled her into his arms, sitting on the bed where she had been laying. She curled up against him, wrapping her fingers around the lapel of his jacket like she had done weeks before. The position was so right and familiar to them that it seemed like a long-formed habit.

"We'll have to do some tests-" the doctor began, silenced when Stephen placed a firm hand on his shoulder and led him from the room.

"You stayed the whole time," Rosie said. It wasn't a question.

"Yes," Damon replied absentmindedly as he pressed his face into her mass of curls, breathing deeply. Her scent filled his nostrils, and he couldn't help thinking how fresh and clean she smelled after seven weeks in a coma. It was almost unnatural. Not that he spent very long thinking about it.

"You read to me," she said, smiling hazily, as though in some sort of pleasant dream or trance.

"Yes," he said twirling a curl around his finger.

"I remember it."

"Do you remember everything that happened?" he asked, his brows furrowed. He couldn't help but wonder how long it would be before she asked about her father. Should he tell her now?

"Most everything," she said.

Her eyebrows scrunched up and a strange look settled on her face.

"I was hurt very badly this time, wasn't I?" she asked softly.

"Yes," he said shortly. This was the last thing in the world that he wanted to talk about right now.

"How long have I been out?" she asked, toying with a button on his jacket.

"Seven weeks, three days, twelve hours, and about forty-seven minutes," he said automatically. He'd been counting every millisecond, and he would've been able to tell her how long in seconds if he hadn't been rushing to get back to her.

He'd been through seven weeks of hell and she had to ask these questions _now?_

"Then why don't I hurt?"

"What?" he asked, his body tensing a little.

"Why don't I hurt?" she repeated. "I don't even feel sore. I'm not bruised, I don't think anything's broken. I just… don't understand it. I heal fast, but this…"

"It doesn't matter," he said, wrapping his arms around her more tightly. "You're safe, you're alive, and you're in perfect health. It doesn't matter how."

"But-"

"You should get some sleep," he said firmly. "Those walking stethoscopes are going to want to poke and prod at you all day tomorrow. You need your rest."

"Damon," she said sarcastically, "I've been _resting_ for more than seven weeks now. I'm pretty sure I can handle it-"

She was cut off by Damon taking hold of her chin lightly and lifting her face to look up at him. He looked at her for a moment, his eyes moving all over her face and hair and neck. He seemed lost in her. His thumb brushed slowly across her lips over and over again, and for one heavenly moment when his face edged closer to hers and his eyes closed a little, she swore that he was about to kiss her. His hand moved down to her neck and his thumb lingered on her pulse point.

The sensation was so heady to him, her beating heart under his thumb, her sweet breath coming in slight pants against his lips. He inhaled it, and in some distant region of his mind it registered that her breath smelled of peppermint, though how that was even possible was beyond him. All he knew at the moment was that every inch of her was heaven to him. Her hair, her face, her breath, her beautiful white neck, and that divine thumping of her heartbeat. He felt as though it was beating for them both.

His lips lowered a little further, brushing against her own so very slightly that it could hardly be said that they were touching at all. Her eyes were slowly drifting closed and she made no sign, however small, of pulling away from him. If it had been another girl in his arms he would've smirked in satisfaction at how easily she was giving in, but the fact of the matter was that it wasn't another girl. And satisfaction was the farthest thing from his mind.

He leaned a little closer, prepared to take her lips with his own-

_Katherine…_

That single word rang through his mind like a gong, and a hundred years later he would still swear that ice water had been injected into his veins.

_Katherine…_

God, how cold he felt, how utterly frozen! He couldn't move for the longest moment. It seemed hours to him.

_Katherine…_

Rosie seemed to get a little impatient and began to move a bit closer to him. The movement brought him out of his frozen state and he turned his head a little until his lips brushed against her ear.

"Go to sleep, Rosie," he whispered.

He leaned back until both of them were laying down, her body on top of his. He had no idea what she felt; she seemed to have withdrawn from him emotionally after that. And despite her earlier protests, she went to sleep not long after they laid down.


	18. You Saved Me

_**Dance With The Devil **_

_**Chapter Eighteen: "You Saved Me."

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**A/N: Here's another chapter. Hope you like! **

_**~ Jane McB.

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**_

Sunlight streamed through the window of the little hospital room, landing on Rosie's hair. It almost glittered as Damon ran his fingers through it.

He hadn't slept much that night. He'd been far too busy thinking. Last night had been unexpected.

He had kissed girls after Katherine – even had sex with them. After all, he was a guy. It wasn't fair to expect him to remain completely celibate for hundreds of years.

But last night… Well, last night had been different. If he had kissed her it would've been a betrayal to Katherine's memory. Not because he would've been kissing her, but because he would've been giving up on Katherine. Some part of him knew that the moment he kissed Rosie all thoughts of Katherine would leave him, and all the love he felt for her with them. He couldn't do that, couldn't let that happen. Katherine was everything. He had to remember that. Without her he would've been nothing but dust more than a hundred years ago. He _owed_ her, and what's more is he loved her.

Or so he kept telling himself.

***

Doctors. Rose had never been so sick of doctors in her _life_. And tests! Don't even get her started on _tests!_ More tests had been run on her that day than she had taken in the entirety of her high school career. Thank God she was cleared to go home the next day or she would've wrung someone's neck.

The doctors had all insisted that she stay for a few more days so they could run some more damn tests but fortunately Damon had stepped in and told them to piss off. She smiled at the remembrance. One moment he was charming and elegant, the next abrasive and threatening.

She was sitting down outside to get a little fresh air. She had Damon to thank for that. If she had been forced to spend even another minute inside that claustrophobia-inducing box called a hospital room she very well might have ended someone.

As it was, she was sitting between his legs in the grass on an island in the parking lot, wrapped up in about a dozen hospital blankets, all on Damon's insistence. It was chilly though, she'd give him that. Not chilly enough for a dozen blankets, but still.

Damon was leaning up against a tree, stroking her hair as he always did, and smelling her hair when he thought she wouldn't notice. She couldn't imagine what he found so appealing about her smell. She hadn't showered in about seven weeks, though she would've earlier if it hadn't been for those walking CAT scans and their stethoscopes.

It was strange though. She didn't feel dirty like she did after skipping a day's shower, so it really didn't make sense to her why she felt so clean after seven weeks. She prayed to God that no one had given her a sponge bath. She had survived a lot of humiliation in her time but that was not something that she thought she could live with.

A thought occurred to her though that quickly took her mind off of sponge baths.

"Damon?" Rose said, her tone immediately catching his attention.

"Is something wrong?" he asked in concern. "Are you too cold?"

She laughed a little at that, the sound filling the still twilight air around them, and a cool breeze made her hair dance around them.

"With as many blankets as you forced on me it's not even possible to be cold!" she said, amusement and exasperation filling her voice.

Damon smiled at her, twirling her hair around his fingers, something that was quickly becoming a habit with him.

"Well, what then?" he asked.

The amusement left her face swiftly and face became suddenly downcast.

"I was just thinking," she said.

"Yeah?"

"I broke my promise to you, didn't I?"

"Your promise?" Damon said, not bothering to hide the confusion in his voice.

"Before I went back to get my stuff," she said, her voice hesitant, "I promised I'd be there when you got back. I wasn't."

"Yeah, I know," Damon said, his voice serious as he remembered the sheer panic he had felt when he had thrown open the door to his room and found she wasn't there. "What about it?"

"Are you very angry with me?" she asked, her voice so low that a human wouldn't have heard it.

She couldn't meet his eyes. He was probably furious with her.

She was surprised when he lifted her head up so that their eyes could meet.

"I should be," he said, the backs of his fingers sliding over her cheeks, drawing a small sigh from her as her eyelids slid closed. "I should be absolutely _furious_ with you. You almost got yourself killed. And for what?"

"My mother's picture," she said softly. "Some letters of hers. A few other things."

"Oh," Damon said. "Well, it was stupid anyway. All you had to do was tell me what you wanted and I would've gotten it for you. Or I could have gone with you. You didn't have to do it alone, Rosie."

"Yes, I did," she said. "Some things a person has to face alone. They can't rely on other people. If I had gone with you it would have been as though I was telling him, 'I'm afraid of you. You've won.' By going by myself, no matter what the result, _I_ won. He _knew_ that I wasn't afraid of him. That's why he was so angry this time. I wasn't afraid of him anymore. He had nothing to hold over me. So he tried to hurt me even more, but even if he'd killed me-"

"Oh _God_, don't say that!" Damon said, his entire body tensing.

She looked up into his face and was shocked to find agony in his expression. She took his face in her hands and pressed her forehead against his.

"Even if he _had_ I still would've won. I was free of him from the moment I met you. You _saved_ me, Damon," she whispered, a sweet smile on her lips. "_You saved me_."


	19. A Gentle Touch Upon My Skin

_**Dance With The Devil **_

_**Chapter Nineteen: "A Gentle Touch Upon My Skin."

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**A/N: Chapter title from poem **_**A Gentle Touch**_** by Susan Overbey. Enjoy! **

_**~ Jane McB.

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He had wanted to kiss her again. When Rosie held his face in her hands and told him that he was her savior, tears of gratitude and genuine affection in her eyes, he had wanted to kiss her. Despite Katherine, despite his own scorn for delicate human mortality – the same human mortality that had kept him on the edge of sanity for seven weeks – despite the fact that she was good and decent and sweet, and all the things he had so long despised for weakness, he had wanted to kiss her. Long, hard, passionately. A kiss that never ended, a feeling that never ceased. And he wanted it. He wanted her.

Thank God she had pulled away when she did or he would have been lost to her for good. Though he had been wondering more and more lately if that would really be such a bad thing after all.

Nevertheless, she had pulled away, and shortly after they had gone into the hospital for Rosie's last night as a patient.

She seemed sad, as though something was ending. Even as he read to her from Shakespeare's _Much Ado About Nothing_, one of her favorite books, she still seemed melancholy.

"Alright," he said with a sigh, snapping the book shut. "What's wrong?"

To his surprise a tear slid down her cheek. She quickly brushed it away and cleared her throat.

"It feels like something is ending," she said softly. "Something good, something that made me happy."

"You make it sound like we've been on a vacation. You almost died, Rosie," Damon said darkly. Lightening his tone he continued. "Besides, you haven't even been conscious for more than twenty-four hours. If anyone should be reminiscing it's me."

His teasing made the corners of her mouth tug reluctantly into a slight smile.

"I know," she said, a strange look resting about her eyes and mouth. "It's just… I can't remember _exactly_ what happened during the past few weeks, but… It's so strange."

"What's strange?" Damon asked standing to seat himself beside her on the bed.

"I don't remember what _happened_, but I remember what I _felt_," she said, her eyes glazed over in thought. "I don't think I've ever felt so safe before, so happy. I wish I had been conscious for it."

She smiled in a soft, tired sort of way, the strain of everything obviously beginning to weigh on her. And yet there was a strong degree of affection in that smile that said more about how much she cared for him than if she had written a thousand-word letter.

She lifted her hand up and brushed away some hair that had fallen into his eyes, no doubt when he had been reading. Her touch was soft and tender, a gentle brushing of skin so soft that no other person in the world seemed to replicate it. Even in his memories Katherine's touch was nothing like this. Sensual, seductive, rough, all those things Katherine's touch undoubtedly was. But light, gentle, affectionate, innocent, and still every bit as sensual, if not more so… He was as helpless as a lamb when Rosie touched him that way. She could've asked anything of him and he would've done it without the slightest hesitation. Anything to feel that comforting touch of her soft fingers lingering over his skin, making every nerve ending come alive inside his body. And at the same time there was a strange comfort in knowing that anything she wanted would be spoken as a humble request, nothing like the harsh commands of Katherine. He knew he shouldn't have felt that way. It was a traitorous thought. And yet, every time he compared Rosie with Katherine – something that was becoming far too frequent for his taste – it was Katherine that always came up short. And what made it even worse was that he didn't mind thinking of Rosie as somewhat superior to Katherine so much as he knew he ought to.

A traitor indeed.

Rosie's hand had long since slipped away from his face to lay by her side, and it was with no surprise that he found she had fallen asleep while he was deep in thought.

Damon rose to his feet and tucked the itchy hospital blanket under her chin, pleased when a contented smile rose to her lips. He turned for a moment, intent on leaving, but as he had that night he had first brought Rosie to stay for good with him he turned back. He looked at her for a long while, trying to come to terms with how much had changed in the last seven weeks, at least where his feelings were concerned.

Katherine's resurrection was becoming less and less important to him every day. What had started out as his one mission in life was now fast becoming a dreaded obligation. He had a foreboding feeling about trying to release Katherine. He felt as though the moment it happened Rosie would be lost to him forever. He may not have been in love with Rosie, but he did at least care for her. More than he had for anyone else in a very long time. A very, _very_ long time in fact. And then of course there was his almost crippling attraction to her. That certainly wasn't helping anything.

With a sigh of frustration Damon ran a hand roughly through his hair, his fingers actually tingling when he touched where Rosie had brushed hair away from his eyes. He bent down and pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead, his body and soul aching for so much more. But he couldn't have more. He was promised to someone else. But he would allow himself a chaste kiss on her forehead, even if his feelings were anything but chaste.

He pulled back and nearly ran from the room, not caring when he almost knocked Stephan down to get as far away from Rosie – and his feelings for her – as fast as he could.

***

Elena was getting flat-out fed up with this. Stephan was spending way too much time at that hospital and around his brother – and more importantly around a certain redhead who had recently regained consciousness.

The fact that Rose Cresswell had been nearly beaten to death and was plainly no threat to anyone, including Elena and her relationship with Stephan, did nothing to dim the fiery rage of jealousy that always overcame her when another female came near her boyfriend. She couldn't manage to be reasonable when it came to him. And the fact that _both_ Salvatore boys were completely at this girl's beck and call didn't help, especially since they had formerly been waging war over her.

Stephan had told her that it was nothing to worry about; he was just keeping an eye on Damon to make sure he didn't suck the poor girl dry in her sleep. That didn't help either. After all, who was this girl that Stephen cared if Damon ate her or not? Alright, so Stephen tried to keep his brother from doing that to anyone. But still, it bothered her that he was spending so much time in that redhead vixen's room while she was left out in the cold.

Something had to be done; anything would do at this point. She was desperate. She couldn't deal with this properly because the girl had almost died. Had it been Caroline Forbes scratching her eyes out would have been easy enough, or destroying her reputation. As it was, Elena couldn't very well blind an invalid. She couldn't imagine that Stephen would approve. And the Cresswell girl had no reputation to speak of so that was out.

Well, Elena _could_ always just tell the redheaded nerd the _truth_ about her new friends…


	20. The Truth About Cats And Bitches

_**Dance With The Devil **_

_**Chapter Twenty: "The Truth About Cats And Bitches."**_

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**A/N: Hey, I hope the title isn't too racy for you guys. I just thought it would describe Elena in a humorous way. **

**I also want to thank Vanessa123 for her outstanding reviews and her help. Here's to you Vanessa! **

_**~ Jane McB.**_

_**

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Rose lay alone in her seriously uncomfortable hospital bed covered by her relentlessly itchy blanket and dwarfing nightgown. She was being discharged today and Damon had gone on some last minute secret mission that was obviously for her, and Stephen, who had been left as her guard by an unbelievably overprotective Damon, had gone to get her some decent food that didn't involve red Jello or fake mashed potatoes with gelatinous gravy that reminded Rosie of more Jello.

She hated Jello. _Hated_ it.

It was the first time she had been alone since before she was brought there and she really wasn't liking it. She half wished she could call Stephen back, even if he remained almost silent when he was around, instead choosing to stare at her in the most uncomfortable way, as if he was trying to figure out what species she belonged to.

Her thoughts were plaguing her. She felt that at any moment her father would come in and snatch her away, and she would never see Damon again. Her nerves were in tatters. But even so she couldn't help feeling as though she'd betrayed her father. He was alone in the world, and he'd been severely broken by her mother's departure from their lives. The truth was, even though Mike Cresswell beat her and resented her for reminding him of his wife, he needed Rose. She kept him going, and she truly felt that he loved her, even if it was only deep down. _Really_ deep down. And she loved him. In truth, he was the only family she had left. There was nothing he could do that would make her stop loving him. It was instinctive. Natural. Right. She knew that she couldn't go back to him but that didn't mean she wanted him to disappear from her life altogether. They could work something out, maybe get him some help. She knew that Damon would try to help her with him.

She wished he hadn't left. Whatever it was he was doing for her couldn't have been that important and she had a lot to talk to him about.

Rose sighed and leaned her head back against the pillows. Her thoughts were looking up but she felt restless and in need of company to distract her. Damon had ordered her not to move from that bed for any other reason than to use the bathroom and even that had been compromise. He was so overprotective. It should have angered her, infuriated her, make her want to smack him. But it didn't. It was refreshing to have someone care so much.

A feeling inside herself caught her attention then. It was more like an awareness in the pit of her stomach and the back of her mind. Someone was coming. Strange things happening to her was so normal now that she didn't even give the fact that she shouldn't know that a second thought. Instead she delved further into her mind, probing the presence of this other person. Whoever it was their emotions were scrambled and confused. There was hostility and jealousy, but no real evil that she could sense. The person was female, young. Dark hair, brown eyes. A name formed in her mind.

_Elena_…

Was she looking for Stephen? Rose wondered.

As if awakening from a dream the feelings of panic at her ability to sense the other girl's presence from down two halls and three doors down. She began to tremble a little and she fought with difficulty for self-control. Elena would be in the room any moment; she had to get herself together.

Rose closed her eyes and breathed deeply through her nose, exhaling from her mouth.

"Calm," she said soothingly. "Be calm."

It seemed to work instantly for she felt more calm and alert than she had since she'd woken up, and even though it was forced it was a nice change. Even in Damon's arms there had been a slight fear that she kept closely hidden that her father would appear any moment.

Someone knocked softly at her door and a nurse entered before she could answer, a sweet smile on the woman's face.

"You've got a visitor," the nurse said – Judy, Rose remembered.

Elena Gilbert entered behind the woman, looking sincerely concerned. It made Rose sick. This was the same girl who had tormented her since grade school and she was supposed to believe that she was genuinely concerned now? Bull.

Rose said nothing though. She simply remained silent, nodding her head in acknowledgment of Elena's presence. The nurse and Elena looked uncomfortable at Rose's aloofness, though Elena covered it quickly.

"I'm going to leave you two girls alone to talk," the nurse said smiling at each of the girls in turn before walking quietly out of the room.

"Hi, Rose," Elena said with forced cheer. "You're looking pretty great for someone who was supposed to be on death's door a few weeks ago." Rose caught the bitterness in Elena's voice but ignored the bait and remained polite, even if detached and standoffish.

"Stephen isn't here I'm afraid," she said. "He took pity on me and went to go get some decent food, but he should be back soon if you want to wait for him."

"Actually, I'm here to see you," Elena said charmingly, taking a seat in what Rose had come to think of as Damon's chair. It irked her to no end that Elena Gilbert was sitting in _that chair_, but she bit her tongue.

"What can I help you with?"

"Oh, I just thought I'd come to see how you were," Elena said nonchalantly. "I heard you were finally awake and I thought you might like some friendly _female_ company. You've had to put up with a lot of male attention lately I hear. You're probably sick of it by now."

"Not really," Rose said, earning a brief frown from Elena. "Stephen doesn't talk a lot and Damon's not been around much since yesterday. I think he's planning some sort of surprise as a way to celebrate my release from this prison."

Elena's smile became more strained and Rose could feel the heat of her raging jealousy emanating off of the brunette.

"Well, I'm sure you want to talk to someone other than the guys," Elena said, a certain possessiveness in her voice when she said 'the guys'. "Maybe you want to talk about boys. I hear Damon's got his eye on you."

"You've been misinformed," Rose said, losing her temper. "Now what is it that you really came here for, and no more crap about girl bonding? You and I have never been on good terms and you don't seem the kind of leopard to change your spots unless it suited you."

Elena gaped at Rose for a moment, her mouth opening and closing like a trout. Had Rose not been so irate she might have laughed at the sight.

"I came here to give you a friendly warning," Elena said darkly once she had regained her motor functions. "Stay away from the Salvatore brothers."

"Sounds more like a threat to me," Rose said curtly.

"Well, it's not," Elena said, primly folding her hands in her lap. "You're not the kind of girl who knows how to handle them."

"And you are?"

"They're dangerous," Elena almost shouted. "Especially Damon."

Triumph glinted coldly in Elena's eyes and she clearly thought she'd won. But Rose had one up on her.

She laid back against the bed, a knowing smile on her lips.

"You know too, don't you?" Rose said, the words more of a statement than a question. Elena's brow furrowed in confusion and she tilted her head a little in question.

"Know what?" she asked.

"It doesn't surprise me though," Rose continued as though Elena had never spoken. "Although I am surprised that you've kept your mouth shut this long. You were going to tell me, weren't you? Tsk, tsk. Stephen wouldn't have liked that. Not after all the trouble he and Damon have gone to keep things under the radar. It wasn't even your secret to tell."

Horror filled Elena's chocolate-colored eyes as the truth sunk in: Rose already knew that Damon and Stephen were vampires and she hadn't been scared away. In fact, she seemed utterly comfortable with the fact.

"But how…?" Elena's words faded away and she was unable to finish her sentence. She seemed absolutely befuddled and Rose was reveling in every second of it.

"The how doesn't matter," Rose said, taking pity on the girl in front of her. "I don't honestly know the answer to that myself, at least not how I knew about Damon. I've known about vampires for a while, nearly my whole life in fact.

"The fact is that I do know. I also know that for some reason that is completely beyond my comprehension you're jealous of me. But to make things simple, Damon and I aren't romantically involved and Stephen wouldn't look twice. Are you satisfied? Because if that's the only reason you came here then you can go. I'm too damn tired to deal with your queen-bee-diva, jealous-of-anything-with-breasts, stay-away-from-my-man, childish bullshit.

"And here's a friendly warning for you: _grow up_, and if I were you I'd do it fast. Stephen and Damon are above being flattered by possessiveness and jealousy. Most guys over twelve are.

"_Now_ you can really go. Stephen's coming back and if he finds you here I'm not lying to him about why you were here. Shoo! Scat! Vamoose!" Rose said, waving Elena out of the room without even getting up.

Before Elena had fully left the tiny hospital room though she turned around, and in one last moment of spitefulness she struck out like a viper.

"Damon killed your father," Elena said coldly. "I thought you ought to know."

And with those final words choking off the very air that Rose breathed, Elena left, her initial mission accomplished more fully than she could have known.


	21. A Shattered Window

_**Dance With The Devil **_

_**Chapter Twenty-One: "A Shattered Window." **_

**A/N: Here's another chapter. Hope you like! There's an f-bomb though. Heehee. Bad me! **

**A/N2: So sorry it's been so long. For everyone who was worried, my mom is doing a lot better. Thanks so much for the support. Updates may still be sporadic but bear with me. Things are still kinda crazy. Thanks so much! :)  
**

_**~ Jane McB**_

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Stephen walked down the second to last corridor before Rosie's room carrying a tray with a hamburger, Mountain Dew, and French fries on it, as well as a very large cup of coffee, something Rosie seemed to regard as a necessity of life.

The line in the hospital cafeteria was almost to the door, making Stephan take quite a bit longer than he thought it would to get Rosie some decent food. He hoped that Rosie wouldn't mention it to Damon, though it was unlikely that she would. She wasn't the tattling type, and he really wasn't in the mood to deal with more of Damon's overprotective mood swings.

As he was turning the corridor he bumped into someone, nearly losing hold of the tray. His Powers enabled him to catch both the person he had collided with and the food tray without spilling any of its contents. He smelled her before he saw her. Elena. He looked down, confused as to why she would be here.

"Elena?" he said. She looked down, refusing to meet his gaze. "Elena, what's wrong? Why are you here?"

He slowly released her, balancing the tray carefully. He watched her, taking in every movement, every slight emotion crossing her face.

"I…" She hesitated, as though trying to assemble a lie to tell him. She looked up at him and her lips pulled back into a smooth smile, one that he could tell she was forcing. "I just wanted to see you. I asked your patient where you were and she said you went to go get food, so I was just headed down to find you." Every word seemed forced and false, and Stephen knew she was hiding something. Truth be told, it hurt him.

"Was there something you wanted to talk to me about?" Stephen asked lightly, trying not to make her feel suspect.

"I just wanted to see if you felt like coming over for dinner. Aunt Judith is going to attempt a casserole and I was hoping you'd brave it with me."

"Damon should be back by then," he said. "I'd love to. Are you sure there's nothing else though? I just mean, you could have called to ask me. There was no need for you to drive all the way down here."

"Well, to be honest I miss you," Elena said tightly. "After all, I hardly ever see you anymore."

"Elena, this is important," Stephen said tiredly. "I've haven't seen my brother act like this since Katherine, and he was at my throat then. If he's in love with her I have to be here every step of the way to make sure things go right. He hasn't been hunting humans, Elena. Do you have any idea how much he must care about her to do that? She could be the key to getting the old Damon back, the Damon I knew before Katherine. If that happens…

"I _miss_ my brother, Elena. If there's even a _chance_ of getting him back… I'd do just about anything for that. So please try to understand why this means so much to me," he said, taking Elena's hands in his own.

Elena's face was full of shame and she was avoiding his gaze again.

"Elena, what is it?" Stephen asked, concern lacing his voice.

"Oh God, Stephen," she said, her voice cracking. "I've done something terrible."

* * *

Damon had put the finishing touches on Rosie's new room and he nearly skipped down the hospital halls with excitement. He whistled a merry tune, grabbing a nurse around the waist to dance her around a patient in a wheelchair, making her giggle and blush. He sang under his breath on the elevator, some ditty from the 30's that he vaguely remembered. He tap danced down the corridor to her room and grinned at Stephen, who was standing outside of Rosie's room.

He stopped dancing when he saw the look on his brother's face though. It stopped him dead in his tracks, and a terrible sense of foreboding began making him feel nauseous.

"What's wrong?" Damon asked breathlessly. "It isn't…" Rosie's name hung heavily in the air between them.

"It's Elena _and_ Rosie," Stephen said looking torn.

Damon took a step forward, looking wildly desperate, much the way he had the night they brought Rosie into the emergency.

"Damn it, Stephen, _tell_ me," he said, his breathing coming in short pants and his fists clenched. He felt ready for a fight, every defense instinct ready and in full swing, and he noted vaguely in the back of his mind that that was really the only thing he knew how to do anymore. Fight.

"Elena told her, Damon," Stephen said evenly. "Elena told Rose about what happened to her father."

Damon felt the heat leave his body. For a long moment he was completely frozen, unable to move or speak. If the world had ended at that very moment he wouldn't have noticed. Everything felt out of focus and yet he felt strangely calm. He almost felt like all this was happening to someone else entirely, like he was someone watching a play of what was happening in that hospital at that very moment.

"What…" he began, grasping for words. "What happened… after she knew?"

"I tried to talk to her but she just sat there and stared at the wall. She's been like that ever since," Stephen said. "The doctors say that she's in shock. Finding out so suddenly... It's not good, Damon. Not after an illness like this."

Damon took a threatening step forward and Stephan tensed. He could feel the anger coursing through his brother's veins as though it pulsed through his own.

"You'd better hide that bitch well, Stephan," Damon said, his voice low, that of a predator ready to kill. "Because the next time I see her, she's _dead_."

"Damon…" Stephan began, reaching out to his brother.

"Don't," Damon said, shoving Stephan away from him hard. "I knew I never should have left her with you. I knew something would happen. I've _never_ been able to count on you; not with Katherine and not with Rosie."

With those final words, Damon pushed past the younger Salvatore brother and entered Rosie's hospital room, shutting the door almost silently behind him. Rosie was sitting rigidly upright on the bed, staring blankly in front of her.

"You killed him," she said accusingly. "He was all I had left and you fucking killed him. I thought you were different, better than the rest of your kind, but you're nothing but a fucking animal. You son of a bitch!"

"Rosie…" Damon began but stopped when Rosie turned to him with a look of pure hatred and fury on her face.

"How could you?" she asked, tears welling in her bright green eyes, her wild red hair falling in her face. "How could you do this to me? How could you leave me alone in this world!"

"You still have me," he said softly.

Rose laughed darkly, the sound disturbing and low in her throat, a sound almost like madness.

"You?" she said scornfully. "A vampire? A _murderer?_ Why would I possibly want you in my life? I knew you were trouble the first minute I laid eyes on you. I knew you would hurt me. I knew you would betray me if I trusted you; I just didn't know how badly."

"Yeah, because I'm so much worse than your drunk, abusive father!" Damon snarled, striking back out of pure hurt. His heart ached at the words she said, the rejection and hatred in her voice.

"Don't you say that about him!" she shrieked, throwing her pillow at him, so furious that it missed him and hit the floor at his feet. "_Don't you say that about him!_"

At the height of her fury, the window shattered, blowing the glass outward, not a shard left in the frame. At that moment, a nurse, looking righteously livid, entered the hospital room.

"What the hell is going on here?" she asked. She looked at the window and the glass shards that seemed to be everywhere but the window frame. "Oh my God! What the hell happened? Are either of you hurt?"

"Yes," Damon said, looking straight at Rosie, his Rosie. "I am."

"Where? Let me see," the nurse demanded.

"It's not a hurt that can be seen," he replied, his gaze locked with that of Rose.

"Damon…" she said, tears welling up in her eyes again.

Without a word, he turned and left. Rose curled on her side and wept like she never had before.


	22. I Trust You

_**Dance With The Devil **_

_**Chapter Twenty-Two: "I Trust You." **_

**A/N: Here's a question for everyone: would everyone be okay if I bumped the rating up to M and added a sex scene? Whether I will or not depends on the response I get from my reviewers. So what do you think? Sex or no sex? Does Damon get laid or no? Also, if I do it, it'll be done tastefully; no trashy sex with bodice ripping and that nonsense. Anyway, here's another chapter. It's a bit longer so enjoy! **

_**~ Jane McB**_

* * *

Stephan wandered down to the basement level where their 'uncle' had kept his vampire prison and verbane. He had a feeling that Damon was down here, moping. He'd left after Damon went in the hospital room; he didn't want to witness his brother's pain, especially as it was caused by Elena. He couldn't believe she had done that. What had she been thinking? Was she trying to destroy everything he'd worked so hard to build with Damon over the last seven weeks?

Stephan walked down the corridors toward the 'dungeon' and entered it, to find his brother sprawled on his back on the small cot in the corner, one arm flung dramatically over his eyes. He looked miserable. Stephan tested the cell door and found that it was locked. The key was on a nail on the wall.

"Leave me alone," Damon said, his voice echoing in the sparse cell.

"She needs you, Damon," Stephan said, folding his arms.

"She hates me," Damon said, "and can you really blame her? I killed her father."

"Her sick, abusive father who almost killed her," Stephan replied, feeling exasperated. "Did you even try to explain why you did it?"

"She wasn't in the mood to listen, and again, can you blame her?"

"She just doesn't understand why you did it," Stephan said, beginning to feel desperate. His brother was giving up; even with Katherine he hadn't done that. "She just needs time."

"She called me a murderer, Stephan," Damon said, removing his arm and sitting up to look his brother in the eye. "And guess what? She's right. I _am_ a murderer. And I fucking _enjoy_ it. I am every bit as sick as her father, if not more so. So why not do her a favor and just disappear from her life before I hurt her again?"

"When's the last time you fed, Damon?" Stephan asked, feeling genuinely concerned. This wasn't like Damon. Damon never gave up when he wanted something; it was his best and worst quality.

"Does it really matter?" Damon asked, laying back down again in his former position of misery and hopelessness.

"Of course it matters," Stephan asked. "If you don't eat soon you'll lose it and attack the first human you see, and it could be Rosie."

"That's kind of the point in being here, Stephan," Damon replied irately. "And don't call her that. Only I call her that."

"You can't stay in here and starve yourself to death, Damon," Stephan said. "Not when she needs you."

"I can't die, remember? Besides, with you around, I know Rosie won't be too bad off; you've always been a good knight in shining armor," Damon said with a sneer.

"I have Elena to worry about," Stephan said. "I can't deal with Rose too."

"You can't possibly be serious?" Damon said, jerking himself upright to look at his brother. "After what that bitch did, you _still_ want her?"

"She made a mistake," Stephan said lamely. "She was jealous and she's sorry."

"_Sorry?_ She's _sorry?_ She should be dead for what she did to Rosie! Did you see the look in her eyes, the hurt, the betrayal? She almost threw her back into a coma!"

"Damon…"

"Don't," Damon said. "There is nothing you can say to make this right. The only reason I haven't snapped that bitch's neck is because it would just give Rosie another reason to hate me."

"Is there anything I can say to get you out of here and into reality again?" Stephan asked.

"No."

"Fine," Stephan said curtly. "Stay here and wallow in your misery while Rose is out there alone, dealing with the loss of the only family she had left, all because you're too selfish to get your ass out of here and stop pitying yourself."

With those last words, Stephan left his brother alone to think about what he said.

* * *

Rose was laying back in her bed three days later, staring out the window that had been replaced shortly before when there was a knock on her door; she didn't answer. She knew it was Stephan that entered, though she didn't bother asking herself exactly how she knew.

"What is it, Stephan?" she asked quietly.

"Damon's starving himself because he thinks you hate him," Stephan said bluntly. "He won't feed."

"What?" she said, whirling around to look at Stephan. "Is he alright? How long has he been without feeding?"

"So you still care?" Stephan asked.

"Damn you, of course I still care!"

"I thought you hated him," Stephan said uncertainly.

"I was angry and hurt," she replied. "I didn't know what I was saying. I was in shock."

"Good," said Stephan. "Let's get you out of here so you can talk some sense into him."

"Hell, yes! I was ready to be out of here ages ago."

* * *

"Damon?" Rose said uncertainly as Stephan led her toward a cell door in the bottom level of the Salvatore place. "Good God, is that you?"

Damon was sprawled on his back on the cot, looking deathly pale, his eyes dark and pupils dilated. He looked like a vampire now.

"Rose?" Damon said, looking up at her weakly. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to apologize to you for what I said," Rose replied. "I was wrong; I know that now. I wasn't thinking, Damon, honestly I wasn't, or I never would have said those things. It's just so hard for me to trust…"

"You were right," Damon said coldly. "I'm everything you said I was."

"No, you're not, Damon," she said, shaking the bars in irritation. She looked around for the key and saw it hanging on a nail. She grabbed it and put it in the lock.

"I don't know if that's wise," Stephan said, putting a hand on her shoulder. "He hasn't fed in a while."

"He won't hurt me," she said, shaking him off and unlocking the door. She opened it and ran to Damon's side, kneeling by the bed. She smoothed his hair back and they looked at each other.

"I _am_ a murderer, Rosie," Damon said, looking regretful for the first time since his childhood. "You know what I am."

"Yes, but you're not a monster, Damon," she said. "You've killed to live, not just to kill, and so what if you had?"

"Rose!" Stephan cried in horror. She ignored him.

"If I can forgive my father for all he did to me, then I can certainly forgive you for wrongs that weren't even done to me," Rose said. "I need you, Damon."

"I killed your father, Rosie," Damon said thickly. "What about that wrong?"

"I'm not going to pretend that I understand why you did it," Rosie said, taking one of Damon's hands in her own. "But if I had to choose between you and him, I would choose you every time, Damon. Even if I don't understand."

"Do you really mean that?" tears welling up in his eyes for the first time since Katherine died.

"Of course I do," Rose said with a tearful smile.

Damon laid back and took a deep breath, tears rolling down his cheeks, though he didn't seem to notice.

"I feel like I can breathe again," Damon said, earning a teary laugh from Rose, and a chuckle from his brother.

Rose's brow furrowed and she looked uncertain for a long moment.

"What?" Damon asked, concerned, looking at her again.

"Will… Will you tell me why you did it, Damon?" she asked. "Why you killed him? It would be so much easier to deal with if I just understood."

"God, Rosie," he said, brushing a wild strand of her hair out of her eyes, "don't you already know? Can't you tell?"

Rosie looked at him with confusion for a long moment until what Elena had said about Damon liking her finally clicked. It couldn't be though, could it?

She blushed and ducked her head, her breathing heavier and her eyes wide at the thought that he would want her in any way, shape or form. She was the ugly fucking duckling, for God's sake, not Elena Gilbert or Caroline Forbes. This was absolutely unreal.

"I… You need to feed," she said finally. "Here."

She rolled up her sleeved hoodie and offered her wrist to Damon. He looked at her like she had grown two heads.

"Are you crazy?" he asked sharply in his weakened voice. "After the illness you've had, you think I'm gonna drink from _you?_"

Rose sighed irritably.

"I'm perfectly fine now, as you can see."

"Not happening," Damon replied.

"Rose, it's not a good idea-"

"Shut up, Stephan," Rose snapped. "Damon, please. You have to be reasonable about this."

"I am being reasonable," Damon said.

"No, you're not. Now shut up and eat, you idiot," she said, shoving her wrist into his mouth.

He mumbled something while trying to get her wrist out of his mouth but he was too weak to fight her. She reached over and tickled his ribs, making him bite down on her wrist. She gasped as the pain shot through her. There would be two new scars on her wrist, as well as the old ones from cutting. She hoped he didn't notice those. They wouldn't be easy to explain and he might not understand.

"Mmff…" Damon moaned as the blood hit his tongue, Stephan watching nervously from the sidelines.

"Rose, I really think-"

"_Shut up_, Stephan," Rose said irritably. "And go away if you're going to be annoying."

Stephan sighed, and with one last look, he left.

Damon never thought blood could taste so wonderful, though he didn't know if it was because he hadn't had human blood in a while or if it was because it was Rosie's and she had given it so willingly.

Rose rested her head on Damon's chest, and he then pulled her up on top of him without breaking contact with her wrist. Her legs were on either side of him, her chest pressed against his, and her head rested in the crook of his neck. Damon suckled her wrist like a baby at his mother's breast, taking nourishment and comfort from Rose in more ways than one. He felt safe; they both did. The moment was a special one for both of them, for it was the first time Rose had ever put such absolute trust in someone, and Damon knew it. He felt humbled and honored, and completely undeserving.

It was a long time before he relinquished her wrist, and only because he could see he had taken a little too much. She looked slightly pale and tired, her eyes fluttering in a sleepy way.

"I've taken too much," he said regretfully. "You're weak."

"Just a little tired," she said, smiling her sweetest for him. If his heart had been beating, it no doubt would have skipped a beat. "You worry too much, Damon, especially about me. Soon you'll be another Stephan, worried about everything and everybody all the time, making everything your business. Don't you have a reputation to worry about?"

She was teasing him, but tiredly; even so, it was adorably sweet and endearing. He tried to remind himself that he loved Katherine but he couldn't find it in himself to utter her name, even in his mind, not after what Rosie had done for him. Katherine didn't seem to matter at the moment.

"Sleep, Rosie," he said softly against her wild mane of fiery hair. "I'll be here when you wake up."

"I know," she said, smiling against his chest, her forehead tucked into the crook of his neck. "I trust you, Damon."

Damon felt his heart soar, and a strange feeling bloomed in the middle of his chest; he finally realized he was in love.


	23. I'm Yours

_**Dance With The Devil **_

_**Chapter Twenty-Three: "I'm Yours." **_

**A/N: As by popular demand, I have decided to change this to an M rated fic. I will give a warning for any chapters with sex or sexual content in them so the younger part of my audience can skip it if they so choose. Thank you so much to my reviewers and readers! You guys keep me going when the going gets tough! P.S. There is some sexual content in this chapter, but the real heavy petting will be in the next chapter. Review if you want heavier than this! **

_**~ Jane McB**_

* * *

"I have a surprise for you," Damon said to Rosie, who still lay on his lap.

It was less than an hour after Damon fed that Rosie recovered fully from the effect of it. It was remarkable; she healed so fast that it boggled his mind.

"Do you?" she asked with a smile. "What is it?"

"If I told you, it wouldn't be a surprise, now would it?" Damon teased, twirling a ringlet of her hair around his finger.

"Spoil-sport," she said, kissing his neck, making a feeling grow in his lower abdomen that he was all too familiar with. He cleared his throat uncomfortably and sat up, taking Rosie with him. She looked at him with concern.

"Have I done something wrong?" she asked, her eyes worried.

She was so sweet, so pure and good; it seemed monstrous that a simple, chaste kiss on his neck was getting him hard. But he couldn't help it. She seemed to fit against his body so perfectly, her legs on either side of him, her breasts pressed against his chest until he ached with wanting her. He'd already been struggling for control when she'd kissed his neck, sending delicious shivers down his body that were too slight for her to feel. But he still felt tied to Katherine, bound to her by a sense of obligation. She had given him this life, and he knew that he owed her for that; finding out that he was in love with Rosie wasn't helping the situation either, but he was afraid that if he gave in to his need for her, Katherine would become nothing but a cold memory growing quickly bitter. A simple kiss, and Katherine would no longer be his Love. But was she ever truly his anyway?

"No, Rosie," he said softly, looking into her eyes and caressing her face with his fingers. She closed her eyes and leaned into his touch, making his heart ache at the trust she put in him. She had allowed him to feed from her when his will was at its weakest; he could have killed her, but she trusted him not to hurt her or take too much blood, which had been the only thing that kept him from drinking her dry, as well as the fact that he loved her more than life itself. He was still hungry and he would need to feed later, but thanks to her, his hunger was now bearable.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, looking at the way her skin was flushed. He could smell her getting aroused and it made him even harder for her. God, but he wanted her. He wanted to make her scream, and not in a sucking-her-dry-I'm-going-to-kill-you kind of way.

She ducked her head and frowned, opening her eyes and toying with his shirt. Her eyes watered and a tear fell onto his shirt.

"What's wrong?" Damon asked worriedly, raising her head with his index finger.

"I'm not beautiful," she said mournfully. "I'm not even pretty, and for the first time in my life, I wish I was. I wish I looked like Elena or Caroline!"

"Why?" Damon asked, genuinely confused. Couldn't she see that he adored her, everything about her, from the freckles on her nose to the wildness of her hair? "Why the hell would you want that?"

"Because you like them differently than you do me," she said, blushing hotly, not meeting his eye; he could feel the heat of embarrassment emanating from her face. "Maybe if I looked like them, you would want me that way too."

He couldn't believe it; she was jealous! He felt like whooping for joy and shaking her all at once. How could she not realize how he felt for her, how much he loved her? Couldn't she see, couldn't she tell just by the way he looked at her? For Stephan to notice his feelings, dense as he was, it had to be written all over his face. Was her self-esteem so low that she just couldn't believe what was so plainly in front of her? He knew that with a single kiss he could banish all her thoughts of worthlessness and self-doubt, but wasn't there some way of giving her that without banishing all thoughts of Katherine and all the nagging obligations that went along with her? Some part of him still cared for the dark-haired beauty that had won his heart so long ago, but he couldn't call it love, not when compared to his feelings for Rosie. If he kissed Rosie, he wouldn't just be kissing her; he'd be pledging himself and his heart to her and giving up on Katherine's love forever. For the first time in Damon's long life, he knew the true meaning of a dilemma.

He rose from the dingy cot and took her with him, one arm respectfully around her waist, the other under the backs of her knees. She gasped in surprise and then laughed.

"What exactly do you think you're doing?" she asked with a twinkle of amusement in her eyes that made them seem like sparkling emeralds.

"I'm taking you to see your surprise," he said with a wink, trying to hide the butterflies in his stomach at the amused and bemused smile she gave him.

"Oh, well in that case," she said, wrapping her arms around his neck, making the butterflies in his stomach flutter, and bringing his face dangerously close to hers, "lead on, my friend. I can hardly wait to see what it is."

He smiled and used his Powers to take them up the stairs and to the door of his room at frightening speeds that made Rosie clutch him tightly.

"Here we are," he said, putting her down on her feet. She swayed unsteadily on her feet and he caught her before she could fall. "Are you alright? Did I go too fast?"

"Wow! Can we do that again?" she said with a laugh that made his heart soar. He really did love her.

"Later," he said with a smirk of amusement. "Right now, let's open your surprise."

"My surprise is in your room?" she asked.

"Not exactly," Damon said, his smirk widening into a naughty grin.

"What are you up to, Damon?" Rosie asked suspiciously.

"You'll see," he said. "Now open the door."

She eyed him for a minute, then reached over to the handle and turned it, pushing the door inward. She gasped when she saw the room that had so shortly been decorated in a late Victorian style. Now, instead, it sported a French country style with roses everywhere. The antique desk had been replaced by a high-gloss white one with pink and yellow roses painted all over it. The king-sized bedspread was a mid-tone yellow with dark pink roses and light leaves all over it. The walls were painted a light butter yellow that offset the room perfectly with dark pink and light yellow striped wallpaper on the lower half, separated by white molding. There was a white wardrobe that was huge and lovely with light-green ivy painted in swirls all over. The room was beautiful, like nothing she had ever seen before. She loved the French country style and the whole room seemed to call her name: Rose. Damon had decorated the whole thing in mind for her. Even the bed itself was painted white with roses on it, matching the desk. It was all so much. No one had ever done anything like this for her; no one had ever given anything like this to her before.

"Is it… for me?" she asked unsurely, walking in and turning around to take it all in.

Damon leaned against the wall and watched her wonder with awe and love, so proud to have been the cause of it. He hadn't planned it, but she looked so beautiful and happy that he decided to take a chance.

"Not exactly," Damon said with an uncertain smile, hoping and praying that his nervousness didn't show on his face.

"Oh," she said, sounding as if she was trying to hide her disappointment. "Well, it's beautiful."

He stood up straight and walked over to her, then behind her. She stood very still as he wrapped his arms around her waist and laid his chin on top of her head. He swallowed thickly.

"It's for _us_," he said, holding his breath for her reaction. When she didn't answer, he continued. "It's our room, and that's out desk, and our wardrobe, and… our bed."

"Oh," she said, the single word more of a gasp than anything. She sounded almost frightened.

He lifted his head and leaned down until his lips touched the shell of her ear.

"Nothing has to happen in this room that you don't want to happen," he whispered reassuringly. "You're safe here."

"What you just said…" she said, then hesitated to continue.

"Yes?"

"Are you implying that… anything I _want_ to happen in this room can happen too? Or did I misunderstand what…?" she asked softly, trailing off as he nipped the shell of her ear.

He didn't know what he was doing. The moment he'd gotten close enough to smell her skin again, it was all over for him; he was sunk. Cheap lavender shampoo was his downfall apparently, because the second he smelled it as strongly as he did now, he was helpless. And her hair… The way it seemed to be everywhere at once, all springy curls and fiery shine, brushing lightly against his cheek every time she moved even a millimeter, drove him closer and closer to the edge until he could barely stand not touching her. So he nibbled her ear. Just a little, the softest brush of his lips and tongue.

"_Anything_ you want," he whispered, his hot breath against her neck and cheek, making the scent of her arousal stronger in his nostrils until he wanted to throw her on the bed and take her again and again, and as a vampire, he had the stamina to do it. "It's yours. I would do _anything_ for you."

"Anything?"

"Yes," he said, moving to her neck and smiling against her skin. She moved her head to the side, giving him full access to her neck, a sign of submitting that she couldn't possibly understand the full meaning of. Could she?

"Then bite me, Damon," she said, so quietly that had it not been for his supernatural hearing, he wouldn't have heard her; even so, he doubted his senses when he heard those words.

"What?" Damon said, drawing back from her neck and turning her around to face him so he could look her in the eyes.

"Mark me, Damon," she said, keening his name, her eyes half-shut and her arousal piquing. "I'm yours already, you must know that. I've hardly hidden how I feel about you. I adore you, Damon, so much it hurts. You can't know what it's like to want someone so bad. Please, Damon, mark me. I'm yours if you'll just let me…"

God, why did she have to say that? Why? Didn't she know what she was doing to him already? Didn't she know she was pushing him to do things he wasn't ready to do? Didn't she know that he ached to be inside her but couldn't be for both their sakes, and she was only making it harder for him to resist?

"You- You don't know what you're saying, Rosie," he said, sounding pained.

She pressed her body flush against his and looked into his eyes, hers so full of certainty and pleading and desire that he suddenly realized he wasn't going to win this argument. How could he resist someone so sure of the rightness of what might happen between them when even he knew it was right, no matter how hard he tried to tell himself it wasn't? How could he resist her when she wanted him? If he had any sense at all, he would snap her up before she changed her mind and remembered what a monster he was.

"I know exactly what I'm saying, Damon. I'm saying I want you in _every way_. I'm saying that I know you don't want me in this way, but if you'll just tell me what you want me to do, I'll do anything," she said, her words a plea, desperate and wanting. It sent a chill straight to his groin, set him on fire, there and everywhere else. "I won't be good at it the first time, but I want to please you. You won't regret it if you just let me try. I know I'm not Elena or Caroline, but I can be just as good in bed with practice, even if I'm not as pretty. We can have the light off and everything-"

He couldn't bear it any longer. Making a conscious decision, he kissed her fully on the lips, his hands grasping her forearms as he pulled her even tighter against his body. She was so close that he could feel her nipples harden through their shirts. It made him want to roar with need.

How could she think those bitches were better than her in _any_ way? How could she think he wanted them over her? Maybe once upon a long time ago, or what seemed like a long time ago, but not now, not when he knew her as well as he did. He knew so much and so little about her; he craved more information almost as much as the animal inside him craved her body, her sweet, petite body.

He broke their kiss, leaning his forehead against hers.

"I can't do this," he said. "I killed your father, for God's sake; you're still grieving. You don't know what you're doing."

"I don't care about that," she said softly, her eyes welling with tears. "Maybe that makes me a bad person, but I just don't give a damn."

She pulled him forward and pressed her lips against his firmly. When she pushed her tongue clumsily against his lips, he couldn't resist; he let her in, in every way.


	24. Going Down

_**Dance With The Devil **_

_**Chapter Twenty-Four: "Going Down." **_

**A/N: As by popular demand, I have decided to change this to an M rated fic. Thank you so much to my reviewers and readers! You guys keep me going when the going gets tough! P.S. Serious sexual content in this chapter! Be WARNED! Also, know that this was one of the hardest chapters I've ever written and the first sex scene I've published, so let me know how I did. I'm nervous. Hehe. **

_**~ Jane McB**_

* * *

He lifted her up and she wrapped her legs around his waist; he headed for the bed as he kissed her thoroughly. He could tell she was inexperienced, not that he'd believed she was anything but beforehand; she was too unpopular with the boys at her school for her to have had much experience with them, idiots that they were. It gave him a thrill though to know that he'd be her first.

He laid her down gently, her head resting on the pillow. He slowly removed his jacket and let it slide to the ground, watching her the whole time. She seemed restless and unsure of herself; he'd take care of that, he thought with a smirk.

"Are you sure?" he said as he laid his body across hers, careful not to let her take his weight. He wound a curl around his finger, enjoying the silkiness of it against his skin.

She caressed his cheek with the back of her hand and her eyes smiled at him; they shined with tears, though whether they were happy or sad, he couldn't tell.

"Yes," she said. "Of course I am."

She sounded so sure, so confident that this was the right thing to do. And she wanted him; he could smell it on her.

He kissed her palm, then her wrist where he'd fed. He was so caught up in the feel of her skin that he didn't notice that the marks had already healed. She was so beautiful to him. He couldn't believe that he'd once thought she was plain and uninteresting, just a toy for him to play with, like Caroline or Elena. No, she was so much more.

"Rosie," he whispered, kissing her neck sweetly. She gasped when he sucked on just the right spot, and it took a great deal of self-control to keep from moaning at the sound.

He lifted her shirt up and off of her, leaving her in her jeans and a thin bra that left little to the imagination. He nuzzled her breasts, earning a soft sigh from her lips and a blush on her cheeks and neck.

"God, you are so beautiful," he whispered against her cleavage, kissing the soft curves of her breasts.

"I'm not," she said sadly, distracted from his lips for only a moment. He suckled her nipple through the fabric of her silky bra, making her arch against him and moan.

"Do you think I would be attracted to someone ugly?" he asked harshly, biting her neck until it would bruise, tired of her lack of self esteem; it was about time she saw herself for how she was, and if he had to make love to her the whole night and into the next week, he'd do it, just to prove his point. "I'm shallow, Rosie. I don't like ugly people or things. So how could you possibly think that you're ugly, or even plain?"

"I think you see me through rose-colored glasses, Damon," she said with a smile, tears welling in her eyes. She looked so reverent, so worshipping; it was awe-inspiring really that she could see him as anything but a monster, but to look at him as though he was a god… It seemed impossible. "And I don't think you're anywhere near as shallow as you think you are."

"Do you know me at all?" he asked with a bitter laugh. She was so wrong. He was shallow. He was shallow and empty without her. She filled him up inside with all her goodness and decency.

"I know you better than my own soul, Damon Salvatore," she said, that same look of reverence in her eyes. She placed her hand over his heart. "And you are beautiful, inside and out."

"You are such a fool, Rosie," he said, lovingly smoothing her hair back as he looked at her. But he could almost believe her when she looked at him that way. She made him feel beautiful. "Such a beautiful little fool."

He kissed her, firmly but gently, and with so much passion, she could hardly breathe. He put his arms under her and unclasped her bra, pulling it off and throwing it away somewhere on the hardwood floor. Shy, she tried to cover herself up, but he pinned her hands by the wrists to the bed while he ravaged her mouth. He kissed down her neck and to her chest, nuzzling her breasts. He suckled her nipple, relishing the feel of skin versus fabric. She moaned and the sound went straight to his groin. He suckled the other nipple, then moved down her stomach, unbuttoning her pants and sliding them off. Her blush seemed to be everywhere, even on her thighs. Her underwear was plain, white, and utterly virginal, so very like her. He removed her underwear slowly, teasingly. He wanted this to last. He looked up at her, fire in his eyes. The look he gave her made her blush. He nuzzled her mound, the dark curls tickling his face.

She gasped at the foreign feeling of being touched there, a place she hadn't even touched herself. He licked up her slit and she cried out when his tongue rubbed her clit. She grasped the smooth comforter in her hands, the feel of the cold cloth against her skin an arousing contrast to the heat of her body. He pushed his tongue inside her and she had to bite back a sob at the feeling. She never knew it could be like this. She had heard about oral sex in the locker room at the high school but never could she have imagined this ecstasy. Every nerve ending tingled and buzzed, and every once in a while he'd touch a spot that sent electric jolts of pleasure throughout her entire body. It felt magical. Surely he was using some kind of vampire power to make this even better for her; it couldn't always be like this. Could it?

The pleasure built, wave after wave of it, until Damon was sure she was seeing stars and screaming so loudly, he was afraid that Stephan would come barging in any minute, demanding to know what he was doing to poor, innocent Rosie. Stephan must have been out though, because he never burst in on them. Damon made love to her with his tongue until she came again and again. He wanted to give her as much pleasure as he could; he wanted to make her understand how he felt about her without having to say it. He wasn't ready to say it. He didn't have a right to until everything with Katherine was sorted out; not until she was raised and it was explained to her that he was in love with Rosie. She would be furious, but he owed her the truth; without her, he never would have met Rosie.

When she'd started crying, tears and all, he knew she'd had enough, at least for then. He wouldn't take her now; no, that would have to wait until he was well and truly free of Katherine. It wouldn't be right otherwise, and he wanted everything to be perfect for that moment when Rosie finally became his. He laid down by her side, holding her to him as she panted for air, tears streaking her face. She was completely and utterly naked, and Damon hadn't taken a stitch of clothing off besides his jacket. He longed to feel her skin against his own, but going down on her would have to be enough for now; he didn't trust himself to be unclothed in the same room with her.

"Damon?" Rosie whispered against his chest.

"Yes?"

"Aren't we going to…?" she asked, blushing from her head to the tips of her toes.

Damon chuckled, trying to hide the desire for her in his voice.

"Not today," he said, looking down at her pressed against his chest. It was a deeply arousing sight.

"You want to wait… until the time is right, don't you?" she asked uncertainly.

"Yes," he said.

"Until you're free?"

He hesitated; how did she know so much about him, about what he was thinking, about what was in his very soul? How was such a divine creature possible?

"Yes," he said slowly.

"Can I…?" Rosie began, then trailed off, her blush deepening to a lovely crimson.

"Can you what?" he asked, looking at her curiously.

"Can I do to you what you did to me just now?"

Dear God, he thought, her words going straight to his groin. Did she even realize what she was saying?

"I… I don't know that that's such a great idea," he said, trying to keep the wanting out of his voice; he didn't succeed. His voice had deepened and his breathing was uneven.

"Why?" she asked, looking up at him for the first time since he'd pleasured her.

"Because," he said lamely.

She grinned like a Cheshire cat and reached for his belt.

"Whoa, no!" he said trying to get her hand as far away from his groin as possible.

"Please," she said, the keening, pleading way she said it making his jeans painfully tight. "Please, I want to so badly. I've never done it before, but if you just tell me what to do, I know I can do it right. I want to please you."

"God, Rosie," he gasped. "You can't say things like that."

"Why?" she said, her hand escaping his grasp and heading for his belt again, her fingers brushing his crotch.

"Be- Because," he said, groaning as his hips lifted against her hand, begging for more friction, even while his mind told him told to give in. She managed to slide the belt out of the loop and unbuckle it before he got her hand again.

"Please," she said, so utterly sincere that he almost gave in then and there. "I know you want me too; I can feel it against my stomach."

She writhed against him to cause friction and he gasped, accidently letting go of her hand. She finished with his belt and unbuttoned his pants, sliding them down with his boxers until they were at his feet with his shoes.

She stared at his erection for a long moment, her face turning red. She abruptly looked away, her eyes wide and looking slightly frightened, making him want to laugh, and he would've had his situation not been so… painful.

"It's okay," he said, trying not to sound as pained as he felt. "You don't have to."

"I want to," she said quickly. "I just… don't know what to do."

"Yes, you do," he said, his own face turning red. He wasn't about to give her a play by play, even if he was dying for her to touch him. "Just think."

She just sat there for a moment, looking anywhere but at him or his erection, and he was about to tell her to forget it, she was too uncomfortable, when she laid down on her stomach between his legs, using her arms to keep herself elevated so that her mouth was level with his dick. Maybe she really did know more than she thought.

She stuck her tongue out and ran it up his length, making him moan. Encouraged, she took him into her mouth and sucked hard, and he had to bite back a scream of pure ecstasy.

"Am I doing it right?" she said next to his length, looking at him with the sincerity of a puppy eyeing its master for approval.

He wished he could tell her what she was doing to him, that he wanted to throw her on the bed and take her, right then and there, and make love to her until they both couldn't take it anymore. Instead, he just nodded enthusiastically, biting his tongue until it bled, trying to be patient and not come until she'd actually done something to justify it. He felt like he was fourteen years old again and just discovering the wonders of his sexuality.

When he was getting close, he tried to push her away and mumble that he was coming but she must not have gotten the hint because she batted his hand away like a fly. She nearly choked on his cum but the sight of her trying to swallow it down only made him come harder, making him roar her name like an animal. It'd never been so good for him.


	25. Forever?

_**Dance With The Devil **_

_**Chapter Twenty-Five: "Forever?" **_

**A/N: I am so sorry for not updating sooner. I've been in the hospital for several months and I was sick before that. But thank you so much for your loyalty and for sticking with me through the tough times. And thank you for all your lovely reviews! 222 exactly. Who would have thought that **_**Dance With The Devil**_** would be so popular! Also, I want to thank all of you who have encouraged me for the last chapter. It was really tough to make myself write it and even harder to post it but the fans demanded it and I'm here for the fans! Thank you! I love you guys! **

_**~ Jane McB**_

* * *

Damon pulled Rosie to him, laying her naked body across his mostly clothed one. He kicked off his shoes and pants, taking his shirt off and throwing it in the growing pile. Now that he'd been satiated, at least for the moment, he could trust himself with her a little more.

"You're so beautiful," she said, running her fingers lightly across his chest.

He smiled at her words, awed that she could find someone so petty and selfish beautiful, but that was simply her nature: to find the absolute best in anyone and make it beautiful in her eyes.

"You still haven't marked me," Rosie said, smiling sweetly in a way that made him ache.

"We'll save that for another time," Damon said, hoping earnestly that there would be another time, almost wishing that time was now.

"Can I ask you something, Damon?" she asked seriously, curling into him and not meeting his eyes.

"Of course," he said, smiling at her as he brushed some curls out of her eyes.

"What happens now?" she asked.

"What do you mean?" Damon asked, looking down at her in confusion.

"Do you still want to get her out of the tomb?" Rose said. "I can help you."

Damon stared at her for a long moment.

"How do you…?" Damon trailed off.

"I- I don't really know how I know, but I know that I have powers," she said. "Damon, I can do things, things I can't explain. Let me help you. We can get the Grimoire from your father's grave and we can find a witch to do the spell. Or maybe I can do it. I don't know. Maybe I am a witch and just haven't known. My mother always said I was special."

"No, it's too dangerous," he said firmly. "I won't have you involved. I don't care what kind of powers you have. You're not immortal."

"I could be," she said, looking at his chest and avoiding his eyes. She seemed shy now, completely naked and fully aware of it. "If you really want me, for keeps, then I can be like you. You can turn me. I can be with you forever."

God, did she know what she was saying? How badly he wanted it? To spend forever with her… What a beautiful thought. Bliss, heaven, nothing could be better than to have her forever.

"Rose, you don't know what you're committing to," Damon said, struggling against his instinct to take what he wanted. "We can't-"

He stopped at the hurt look on her face and the tears welling in her eyes.

"Damn it, Rosie, I want to, I just don't want you to do something you can't take back later," he said desperately. "You don't know what this life is like. Feeding on a stranger's blood, killing, you can't be like that, and living off of animal blood is a half-life for a vampire. It's hard. I don't think you could live the way I live and be happy."

"I can always be happy as long as I have you," she said, desperately clinging to him. "I want you forever, Damon, and I'll do anything to get it, anything you want. Just tell me and I'll do it!"

She seemed so sure that he almost gave in right then and there. But she needed to be really sure before he could do it. Besides, killing her wouldn't be easy, even if he knew she'd be reborn as a vampire.

"I want you to think about it really hard and then decide," he said. "You're still grieving, and this is all new. I need you to be really sure. I don't want you to have regrets."

She smiled brilliantly at him and his heart fluttered inside his chest.

"I won't change my mind if you don't," she said, her wild hair sticking out in the funniest places. He smoothed it down with his hand and then weaved his fingers through her hair. "I love you, Damon."

He thought he would die of pure happiness. Could she really love him? A monster like him? Could she really be such an angel? Yes, he could see it in her bright green eyes when she looked at him. Such lovely eyes, so full of love for him.

"I-" he began.

He couldn't say it. Not yet. Not until he was completely free of Katherine, whose memory was now acrid and bitter to him. He resented her hold on him, resented the favor he owed her. He had to get her out of the tomb and free her so he could explain about Rosie and move on with his life, the one he would now share with his lovely redhead.

"I know, Damon," she said, her eyes full of love for him. "I can wait. I'm patient."

He could have cried with relief. She understood. She knew. He didn't know how and he didn't care. He just knew he loved her and that she understood that fact.

"Go to sleep, Rosie," he said softly, caressing her face. "We'll talk in the morning."

She laid her head on his chest and sighed happily. She was soon asleep.


End file.
